


How They Are Down South

by deawrites



Series: Bayou Cane AU [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Adult Content, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Explicit Language, M/M, Sibling Incest, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-06
Updated: 2017-03-08
Packaged: 2018-04-07 21:47:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 22,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4279107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deawrites/pseuds/deawrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam and Dean are now building a life in Bayou Cane, Louisiana. Dean is an FBI agent in New Orleans partnered with Benny Layffette.</p><p>Notes and Warnings:<br/>This is an investigation into Sam and Dean's life in the AU you can find in: "Four Years". I wanted to delve into Dean's friendship with Benny Layffette (yes I know it’s Liffite but I changed it) because I was intrigued by their partnership in the FBI. This Universe precedes the entire S1-S13 show.  And I know Bayou Cane LA is not where Benny was from either, but I changed that as well. Any questions, comments, suggestions and the like are encouraged. Thank you for reading!</p><p>WARNINGS: Explicit language, graphic sex, incest between brothers, angst, descriptions of graphic violence, one incident of referenced child molestation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Church Ladies, Coffee And A Kidnapping

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Four Years](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4135764) by [deawrites](https://archiveofourown.org/users/deawrites/pseuds/deawrites). 



> This is an investigation into Sam and Dean's life in the AU you can find in: "Four Years". I wanted to delve into Dean's friendship with Benny Layffette (yes, I know it's Liffite but I changed it) because I was intrigued by their partnership in the FBI. This Universe precedes the entire S1-S13 show. (edited and re-posted 9/3/16)
> 
> Any questions, comments, suggestions and the like are encouraged. Thank you for reading!

Bayou Cane Louisiana boasted a population of under ten thousand, with over a handful of families that had settled there since the town's inception in March of 1822. At the time the township had been titled Terrebonne Parish, and Benjamin “Benny” Layfette's ancestors were among those first residents. He personally had been bequeathed several land holdings in the county and was more than proud to live and serve the city where he was born and raised.  The Layfette ancestry stood in various degrees of financial success over the decades; initially richer than destitute; but Benny had been shepherded to never be afraid to get his hands dirty; be generous to those less fortunate than himself; and always give back to the community.  His great, great grandfather firmly believed that if you took care of your home town, the very same people took care of its own in times of need.  This advice had served Benny though his thirty-seven years as part of the greater community. He attended church every Sunday, most civic and church functions throughout the year, only drawing short of having a seat on the city council.

 

His reservations to lead weren't because he didn't understand politics because he did; Benny had a fierce intelligence that due to his size and laid back demeanor, people made the mistake of overlooking. The reason he steered clear of politics was when it came to governing Bayou Cane, if the council or mayor stepped foot wrong, Benny's voice would be one of many rabble rousing for immediate change. There was only so much time in the day, and Benny had a rather full schedule between his job, family, the community, and the up keep of the numerous friendships he maintained.  Weekly, he took constitutional strolls around the city being seen, saying hello to people, helping those who required him too, and of course gossiping.

 

His most current friendship was not with a life=long resident of Bayou Cane, but rather a newer addition. His F.B.I. coworker and partner, Dean Winchester; had been assigned to Benny's department two years prior. The two had been profusely compatible, both professionally and personally; and became fast friends. Dean may have been fresh out of Quantico, but after two days of field training Dean, Benny knew the man was much more experienced than any fresh faced, newly anointed, agent he had ever known. Dean's demeanor denoted he was comfortable around corpses, grieving witnesses he needed immediate answers from, and could quickly navigate the obstruction of the investigation by tight lipped officials.  Dean was also quite able to juggle details in his mind of evidence, locations, witness statements and theories, with near crystalline recall.  He could connect obscure dots into a clear picture of events that led to a crime and the perpetrator. As impressive as he was on the job, Benny soon learned that after hours Dean was broken and in mourning.

 

In this Benny and Dean discovered the basis of their intimate friendship: Dean's devastation was merely titled 'Sammy', while Benny's was the death of his wife June, and their twin toddlers, Kelsiesue and Allimay six years prior. The passing of the most important women Benny would ever have in his life, placed him in a dark tailspin of drinking, drugs and longing for his own demise. He recognized in Dean the identical soul deep grief, and extended his hand in brotherhood.  If he had managed to keep breathing six years after the deaths of his family, perhaps Dean could hope to do the same following his Sammy. They had been working together less than a fortnight, when Dean moved into one of the spare rooms in Benny's house. It took him a few months of gentle prodding to get Dean to leave his dark room, and throw out the fortress of liquor bottles cluttering every available surface, but his patience bore constructive fruits.

 

Little by little, Dean's trust in Benny's advice and friendship grew, until Dean was accompanying him on his constitutionals around town. The reasoning behind the activity of "just be seen" was odd to Dean, but the result of helping people was not foreign in the least.  Dean soon began to look forward to their strolls, and often picked the locations they would start from, curious to see where they might end up. As time passed, Dean sat in on several church services and numerous functions. The bake sales were his favorites, as he wanted to try as many homemade pies as he could jam down his gullet in ecstasy. His discerning palate soon won him attention among the baking ladies, and eventually garnered him the title of head judge at both the Spring and Winter Festival pie bake off contests. This office, Dean proudly served with distinction.  Due to his seat at the fairs, Dean occasionally was accosted by little old ladies and house wives, armed with freshly made goods to test their recipes. There was no shortage of homemade baked treats in the household; a fact that pleased Dean to no end. When Dean's 'Sammy' arrived in Bayou Cane one Saturday afternoon, Benny accepted that Dean was about to move out of his home but not to any different pastures; he knew Dean loved the town too much to leave. As Benny had warned Dean one lazy, summer evening, a few weeks upon his arrival; Bayou Cane had a way of seeping into a body’s bones and settle there. You never really noticed the intrusion until you tried to lay your head elsewhere; the Bayou would never let you leave once you called it home.

 

Dean and Sam shared Dean's rented room for only two weeks before they signed leasing documents for a house rental.  While Benny was sorry to see them move out, he understood their need for their own home and privacy. Sam's presence signaled a new beginning for Dean's life, and Benny would be damned if he would begrudge his best friend that opportunity. While the house seemed now infinitely huge with just him living in it, he took comfort in the fact that Dean and his Sammy lived just down the street. Benny hadn't told them that he owned the property they now rented, nor that he had lowered the lease payments so that they could afford the house while Sam got his feet underneath him with his own finances.  The realtor had handled all the paper work along with Benny's lawyer, and neither of them would tell the newest tenants. Neither would anyone else in town who knew, and that was just how Benny preferred it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sam sighed and placed his hands on his hips as he stared at the sparse family room, bathed in the afternoon sun. He heard Dean tramping down the hall, work boots heavy on the cherry wood flooring of the hallway. Dean moved to stand directly beside Sam, and looked from the living space to his younger sibling's profile.

 

"What?"

 

Sam frowned and met Dean's gaze.  "We have four bedrooms, two and half baths, a formal parlor, a dining room, plus a family room and breakfast nook. Dean, we have no furniture to go in this house. What the hell are we doing? We literally have nothing but our clothes, tools, weapons, computers, a shit ton of books and two cars. How in the hell are we going to afford everything we need?"

 

Dean could see the intensity of Sam's worry in the lines of his face, hazel eyes swarming with anxiousness. Dean slung his arm around Sam's shoulders and rubbed Sam's breast plate with his opposite hand, like he used to when Sam was a little boy and aggressively fretting over events out of his control.

 

"Sammy, we're fine. We'll do what we always did before-"

 

"Thrift shops and garage sales?" Sam whined, shoulders rounding down in defeat. "Dean, for once in our lives can't we just have something that's new? Ever only been ours? I mean, it'll take longer but at least at the end of the day we'll own a real couch."

 

Dean pressed a finger to Sam's lips and shushed him tenderly. He found it extremely endearing that Sam was exhibiting nesting behavior. Dean had experienced it before, but his younger sibling never had and it was adorable.

 

"Two words, Sammy," Dean grinned pulling his hand away, and extending a finger for each word. "Church, ladies."

 

Sam's forehead was a mass of confusion. "What?"

 

"Church ladies!" Dean exclaimed as if the phrase was self-explanatory. He placed his hands upon Sam's shoulders and massaged the tensed muscles, holding eye contact with his younger brother. "Okay, I've been living here for a bit over two years now. And I have learned that there is an untapped resource that Dad never knew about because if he had, we'd have been living like kings." Dean paused and ran his fingertips up the bare nape of Sam's neck.  "Lots of women around town have grown up children. They get a lot of household stuff over the years from other people; traded unused wedding gifts, lots of stuff they bought for college dorms but never got used; kids don't have storage in new apartments so mom says she'll take the couch and dining room table to save money on storage: that kind of thing. I know allot of these women and they like me. They have really nice, still in the box items, that they would just love to give us. Kitchen stuff, furniture, linens, everything we need to set up house. And as time goes by, and we add a new piece of our own here and there, we take the stuff that they gave us and either give it back to them or pass it on to someone else who needs it."

 

Sam blinked as Dean patted his shoulders with his palms, and repeated, "Church ladies."

 

Sam sighed. "It sounds like we're taking advantage of these women."

 

"We aren't. Trust me." Dean reassured Sam tenderly. "This is how the South works. They love out doing each other with charity big time so- stop worrying okay? I'll let it slip to the Pastor's wife on Sunday when we’re at church, that we're in a bit of need and let the gossip vine go to work."

 

Sam gazed over Dean's shoulder at the vast space of the family room, and knew that he had to concede defeat. They needed too much too quickly to turn any charity away. The situation would be temporary, just while until Sam was able to generate some income through his folk lore and hunt research assisting. He was almost done setting up the website and linking it to the online payment site, and just required a little more time to get his brand recognized.

 

"All right." Sam surrendered turning his attention back to Dean's wide and goofy grin. It was good to see that Dean was ecstatic about the prospect of their present circumstances. They had untouched whiskey bottles in the house, Dean only drinking one to three beers a day. And for Dean, that was like having a warehouse filled to the rafters with candy and only walking away with one to three pieces.

 

Dean patted Sam on the shoulders and moved into the kitchen. "I'll make us some sandwiches. You want turkey or ham?"

 

"Turkey." Sam responded looking at the empty room once more. "Church ladies." He repeated to himself softly.  Abruptly a phrase Dean had used hit Sam like a freight train, his brow furrowed and he looked to the kitchen. "Wait! Did you say _'church on Sunday'_?"  Sam rushed into the kitchen to find Dean with his head in the refrigerator gathering ingredients for their sandwiches. "Dean, we aren't religious people."

 

Dean turned and placed the food stuffs he gathered upon the kitchen island.  "I know that. But here?" Dean rested his hands upon the counter top. "You want to be part of the community that means you go to church." He shrugged. "It's not all that bad. First few times I went I was hoping for demons to storm the place, so I could eat up the service time that way." He met Sam's gaze. "Then I started looking around at all the people, gauging their stories and; I dunno. It felt okay. Not the god stuff, but being there with everyone else."

 

Sam moved to stand adjacent to Dean and absorbed his brother's words. He could see the seriousness in Dean's eyes, and he discovered it unnerved him a little. "You certain the sermons didn't brainwash you?"

 

Annoyance flared upon Dean's features; Sam just couldn't leave things alone sometimes. "No Sam, it wasn't the sermons."

 

"The pie then?" Sam was looking for an angle, anything to justify Dean's impending insistence that Sam join him that Sunday. "Oh c'mon Dean," Sam urged, meeting his brother's glare head on. "We were raised to question everything.  Blind devotion isn't what we do-"

 

Dean set the mayonnaise jar down a little harder than necessary and growled, "No, we don't but we were also raised like nomad warriors. There was no peace, no contentment, no roots to a community, no real life like everyone else had." Dean's jaw set hard. "You spent your whole life bitching about how badly you wanted to be 'normal', well guess what Sam? People in this town are _that_ normal. They believe in god, and they go to church. They make pies, and have freakin' carnivals and celebrate all the holidays too. We," he motioned to himself and then Sam. "might not get that; or be used to it; but they're the majority, and if we want to fit in we had better put on our smiles and join the throng."  Dean shook his head and pursed his lips before finishing, "I'm not asking you to believe in god, Sam. All I want you to do is take ninety minutes out of your day and be seen, make small talk, coo over a few babies and old lady's hats. Do you think you can handle that without the snide judgments?"

 

Sam swallowed, realizing that Dean was completely invested in their new living circumstances.  Sam's gaze dropped, his expression full of remorse, as he instigated eye contact a few beats later.  "Sorry Dean." Sam glanced out of the kitchen windows into their backyard, and looking back at Dean he reached out with a hand and touched the loaf of bread still in its packaging.  "This is all just..." his voice trailed off and Dean picked up the sentence.

 

"A brave new world? Yeah Sam, it is. And if we want it to work we gotta find our way to fit in."

 

Sam nodded. "We have to go shopping then because I don't have any church clothes."

 

Dean smiled and pat Sam on the bicep conveying a silent _'atta boy, Sammy'_.  He nodded and reached for the bread his younger sibling had just been fondling. "That we can do."

 

Sam walked to the refrigerator and took out a bottled water. He leaned back against the island beside Dean to watch him make their lunch, and pick at the sandwich meat before Dean could slap his hand away.  Dean was happy, and Sam couldn't remember the last time he had ever seen him this relaxed or enthusiastic about just being alive. Maybe it was the town environment he had to thank, or a combination of it and Sam's being back in his life. Either way, Sam knew that it wouldn't last and he damned well better enjoy the moment while they still could.

 

Dean's grin widened as Sam pressed his shoulder briefly against Dean's.  For now, he would let go and allow Dean to lead him into the abyss of the unknown once more.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dean was grinning like he had just heard a really great joke, and couldn't wait to share it with the rest of the world.  He looked almost childlike, at least Benny could see traces of the boy the man used to be long ago, and it made him smile as well. Dean climbed into the 2014, navy blue, Chevy Impala and placed his travel coffee canister in the nearest cup holder, and fastened his seat belt. He flashed a full toothed smile at his partner, and waggled his eyebrows informing, "Brand new coffee maker. The pod kind." Dean sighed happily and relaxed back into the seat, as Benny pulled away from the curb.

 

"You sure coffee's all that's got you grinnin' like a fool this morning, chief?" Benny bit off a laugh, noting that Dean's cheeks flushed a little pink.

 

"N-na, no. It's the coffee." To illustrate his point, Dean reached for the travel canister and took a sip from the lid. "Mmmm, Italian, medium roast."

 

"Well then, tomorrow you can bring me one."

 

"Sure thing." Dean promised, repositioning his shoulder holster over the seat belt across his chest. "You know, Sammy and I have gotta to have you over for dinner a night this week. Catch up a little." Dean looked at Benny's profile as he settled in the seat finally comfortable and situated. "We've been meaning too, but the house wasn't exactly that company worthy until now."

 

Benny made an affirmative response. "I know there's a real story there. Little birds were all a twitter in the trees a few Sundays back, and I've seen plenty of neighbor's trucks drivin' up and down the street lately."

 

Dean laughed and shook his head. "Church ladies are the absolute best!"

 

Benny canted his gaze away from the road briefly to Dean. "Until they start playing match maker and pressure you about their unwed daughters, or other relations that is."

 

"Yeah, about that," Dean tugged at the knot of his tie as if it had abruptly constricted around his neck. He cleared his throat. "They figured out pretty fast that Sammy and I are, 'an item'." He shrugged sheepishly. "I have a feeling that we're not going to hear too much negativity around town about it either. Those middle aged women do lust over Sam- but..." Dean pulled at the cuffs of his shirt and steeled himself to look at Benny's profile.  "You said something to the Pastor; didn't you." It wasn't a question and Benny did nothing to correct Dean otherwise.

 

It was Benny's turn to flush a little pink around the cheeks.  "Most folks around here live and let live, others- just hold on to different ways than you or I. I'm not going to fault them their thoughts if they don't preach against yours. Pastor Wittworth has a way of getting folks to listen to one another when strong wills collide. You know how Bayou Cane treats its own, but I just wanted to make certain your Sammy's transition to livin' here is as easy as possible."

 

Dean smirked and reached over to pat Benny on the shoulder. He squeezed the muscle in appreciation, and nodded approvingly as his gaze sought the traffic out of the windshield.  "He's got a little culture shock. The way we grew up we didn't place roots and everyone here has been so, _'welcoming'_." Dean withdrew his hand. "He even got propositioned by one of the divorced cougars’ day before yesterday. She all but grabbed him by the scruff and dragged him out back and under the house."

 

Benny laughed at the mental image, and Dean joined him.  "But in all, I think he'll learn to love it like I we. Not the invitations but, everything else in general."

 

"So he's decided to stay then?"

 

Dean nodded. "He's willing to give it a try. We're really close to New Orleans; which is his favorite city ever; and he knows I just want to be here for now." Dean swallowed, giving Benny pause to wonder if perhaps in a few months Dean would inform him that he and Sam were going to move elsewhere.

 

Benny's stomach felt cold at the prospect and he glanced at Dean.  "He a fisher like you?"

 

Dean shook his head. "Oddly, he doesn't have the patience for it. His brain doesn't still like mine does. He starts twitching and huffing until he can't take it anymore, and he starts pacing and won't shut his mouth off for anything." While Dean's words sounded derogatory, his expression held vast affection for his sibling. "I knew him since he was a kid, and that is something that's never changed, man. And yet, he can do yoga and I can't understand that shit at all."

 

"Sound mind, solid body and blissful soul, Brother." Benny teased of Yoga practices. "We'll keep looking for somethin' the three of us can get up to. Don't you worry now."

 

"I wasn't." Dean assured, pulling his cell phone out of his inner blazer pocket and texted Sam: _'U naked in bed? Miss u'_ Once the message was sent, Dean looked up at the traffic ahead of them once more. "Heard something on the blue wire, about a break in at a kid's clothing boutique?" When Benny chuckled, Dean snorted with derision. "What? A guy can't listen to police scanners in his spare time? Sheesh Layfette, cut me some slack. It was late, Sam was reading, I was bored..."

 

"Just funnin' you." Benny assured patting Dean's thigh. "I know where you got that scanner from." There was an empty space on his kitchen counter where the unit had previously rested at his house to prove it.

 

"So it's just weird. Less than $300 worth of clothes were taken, register wasn't touched, floor safe not even scratched, nothing was vandalized and security cameras got zilch from what I could find out this morning when I called the precinct."  Benny rolled his gaze to Dean reproachfully. "I have a uniform that doesn't mind talking shop with me. I'm not trying to poach cases. I'm just saying that," Dean paused and looked out the passenger window. He debated whether or not he should tell Benny the entire truth just yet, or wait and see if Sam's premonition came to fruition. He hoped not; if he ever wanted Sam to be wrong as it was now. "Never mind."

 

Dean had been in the basement cleaning both his and Sam's weapon sets, listening to the scratch and squawk of the police scanner on the work table before him. Sam was upstairs taking a shower, though Dean preferred to remain sticky and musky from their recent lovemaking. He couldn't help smiling at the memory that heated his belly and rolled up his spinal column. Perhaps he should go up to their bedroom and see if Sam was still naked and wet in the master bath.

 

The thought flew from his mind a second later when he heard Sam call him from the top of the basement stairs. He didn't like how shaky the voice sounded, how fragile. Dean rushed to the bottom of the stairs to see Sam clutching the door frame as he sat down on the landing. He was wearing a bathrobe and his hair was wet. Dean rushed up the stairs to him, reached out and touched his face.

 

"What's wrong, Sammy? What is it?"

 

"M-my head." Sam groaned closing his eyes, leaning into Dean's comforting touch. "I was taking a shower and all of the sudden there was this stabbing pain in my head-" He faltered and pressed the heel of his hand to a temple and kept his eyes closed. "It really hurts! God Dean... _please_...." Sam hissed in pain as Dean worked to get an arm around him and hauled him to his feet.

 

Dean carefully lead him back into the kitchen and sat him down on the bench of their breakfast nook.  "Easy. I'll get you a cold compress and some water." Dean opened the freezer and took out a blue gel pack that he broke open, and wrapped in a hand towel. He pressed it lightly against Sam's forehead for him to hold, then went and got him a small bottled water from the refrigerator. Once he placed it near Sam's opposite hand, he sat beside him and rubbed his upper back gently. He took over holding the cold compress as well.  "Just keep your eyes closed."

 

"Dean, I also saw something. I got a flash of some images in my mind after the pain. It was very unfocused and visceral but, there was this little girl-"

 

"Shh, it's okay, Sammy. Just relax a minute. You can tell me all about it when your head stops hurting."

 

"No!" Sam snapped and grabbed Dean's wrist to tug the compress down from his forehead. He opened his eyes to look at his brother. "You don't understand, this little girl; she was scared and crying. There was someone there with her trying to get her to wear this white, pearl, dress and... I think they were going to kill her."

 

Dean felt frustration mount in his veins. "So this vision or images or whatever? Do you think they're real? Couldn't they just be something like, I don't know; parts of dreams?"

 

Sam shook his head. "No, I don't think so, Dean." Sam leaned a little against his brother wishing that the kitchen light was off, as it felt too bright all of the sudden. "I've had this happen to me before a couple of times and, I'd say they're more like premonitions than dreams."

 

Surprise and concern were covered in Dean's expression by a thick blanket of annoyance. "Wait, you've had these **before** and you didn't _tell_ me?"

 

Sam's gaze pleaded with his older brother for lenience. "Well, I was at Stanford and we weren't talking so, yeah. I didn't tell you until now. I thought they were passing. I haven't had an episode in months, so I've forgotten all about them until now." He rubbed his left temple with the corresponding fingers of the same hand. "They're always packed inside the king of all migraines."

 

Dean continued to rub Sam's back for a moment of silence before he rose from the table and went to the counter. He opened a utility drawer and pulled out a small pad of paper and a pen. He returned to the table and sat back down. "Tell me everything you remember."

 

Sam smiled, relieved that was all that was required of him to convince Dean to take the images seriously. If he believed, so did Dean; and that was good enough for his older brother. Through the pounding of his migraine, Sam detailed all the images that were in his mind, swarming and swirling around the little girl.  “Her skin was dark, and her hair hung just to her shoulders in numerous braids with tiny, colorful beads at the bottom of them to secure the braids. She appeared to be really young; about four to six years old. She was crying and afraid and he could clearly see a sign that read, ‘Philomena’s Pretties Boutique’, and some wall of light gray, corrugated metal, with some black numbers and a red symbol spray painted on it.”

 

"That's it; that's all of it." Sam pressed the cold pack against his closed eyelids, and the bridge of his nose. It felt good, and the pounding of his head was relenting a little. "I wish I could tell you more, like what it means, or when it's happened or going to happen, but I can't. That's all I know."

 

"It's okay, Sammy." Dean assured him stroking his hand down Sam's forearm. "Want some aspirin?"

 

"It won't help, but thank you." Sam groaned in pain. "When I can see again, do you want me to look up the boutique and see where it is?"

 

"I'll do it." Dean volunteered. "You should probably go to bed. Turn out all the lights, and just try to sleep this off." He had always been told that's what migraine sufferers did to combat their anguish, when all other means failed.

 

Sam lowered the ice pack and met Dean's gaze. "But I want to help you."

 

Dean reached out and stroked Sam's damp hair back from his shoulder. "Then go lay down. I'll be in there in a few. I have to finish cleaning our gear and lock up. Just try and get to sleep all right?" He leaned forward and kissed Sam tenderly. "We'll figure this out."

 

Sam would have nodded, but the action would have caused him pain, so he just smiled at Dean in way of answer instead. A few minutes later he slipped the robe off of his nude body and climbed into bed, holding the ice pack over the bridge of his nose and forehead once more. He was looking forward to when Dean would join him beneath the sheets and curl around him protectively.  He couldn't tell if his fragile feelings were residual form the little girl's fear, or if it was a side effect of his severe migraine.

 

Dean went back downstairs to finish with the weapons, and it was then that he heard the radio call about the store break in. The address was given but it didn't garner his immediate attention until one of the uniform officers asked for confirmation if that the name of the burglarized store was. Philomena’s Pretties. Dean's blood ran a little cold and he wondered if the little girl was already dead, or if there would still be time to save her. Further research placed the boutique in South New Orleans and as far as the missing girl went, Dean had slyly requested any new missing person's reports listing African American girls between the ages of four to seven be flagged for his review. The reports were scanned and files could be sent to Sam's laptop for face recognition later. For now, the Winchester brothers were in the wait cycle while the rest of the world caught up to their inquiries.

 

Dean turned his gaze away from the passenger window and back to Benny. "You're right, maybe I listen to that damn thing too much."

 

Benny's left eyebrow arched. "Never said that, chief."

 

"Yeah well," Dean took a sip of his coffee and permitted the taste to remind him that Sam had gone down upon his knees while Dean waited for the coffee maker to finish his selection. Getting blown before leaving for work on a Monday morning, was the best possible send off a man could receive. But that was Sammy; always considerate and loving to his big brother.  "Still, it's not like we don't have our own cases."

 

Benny heard the weight to Dean's tone; he was hiding something; uncertain of when to reveal his full thoughts. Benny had danced these steps with Dean before and he was more than confident that when Dean was prepared to talk, that he would. Until then it didn't serve either one of them if Benny pushed for further information. He instead turned on the dispatch radio and winked at Dean.

 

"This should keep you smilin', Brother until you get home to the blue wire."

 

Dean grunted and emitted a small laugh before he took another sip of his coffee. He hoped that by mid-day he would have more information about the little girl Sam had seen in his vision.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

_Tears streamed down her face, crocodile tears and she tried very hard not to make a sound. The Mister got angry when she made noise. Shalia was tired, afraid, hungry, thirsty and wanted nothing more than to go home. She had asked Mister a few times to let her go home. but he had just screamed and shaken her until she peed herself. She was a big girl and that shouldn't have happened, but her arms ached where he had held her, and he had yelled in her face like a roaring dragon. Luckily she hadn't been wearing the pretty gown he had dressed her in at the time. She didn't know how much trouble she would have been in if she had soiled it._

_"Please Mister." She whispered barely speaking, because the Mister told her he wanted her to be silent. "May I have a drink of water? I promise I won't spill."_

_The Mister was kneeling before her and trying to get the lace at the ankles of her socks to lay just so. The lace looked straight enough to her, but the Mister had other ideas what was right. She didn't like the way he ran his rough hands up her legs and beneath the petticoat of her dress, stopping at her thighs. His touch silenced her as his hard eyes glared into her face. She didn't like his touch; it wasn't right, but she was afraid to tell him so._

_"Soon my little darling. We'll have our tea party and everyone will tell you how beautiful you look in your wedding dress. Won't that be fun?"_

_It sounded like anything but fun to Shalia. She didn't know Mister at all, and she wanted her mother to come and get her like she did every day from school. But the Mister didn't seem interested in anything but the tea party and her wedding dress. Shalia felt she was far too young to be wearing a wedding gown, but the dress was awfully beautiful. It was white with lace and pearls sewn on it at the cuffs of the short sleeves, collar and bottom of the dress. It was the prettiest dress she had ever worn, but she knew she would have to be very careful not to get it dirty. Like the pastel dresses she wore for Church, and picture day, this dress was special clothes._

_When Shalia didn't answer, the Mister immediately bore his fingers into her tender flesh, causing her to gasp and pull a little at his hold._

_"It isn't polite my little darling not to answer when you've been asked a question. I said, won't that be fun?"_

_Feeling her eyes tear up once more, Shalia nodded and Mister relaxed his hands on her thighs. She hoped her mother would be coming soon. She didn't like this Mister even if he had given her a pretty dress. She didn't like him at all._

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dean looked at his smart phone and frowned. No response from Sam just yet and it was beginning to grate on him. He had spoken to his police contact three times and sent Sam a compressed PDF file too open, and see if he recognized any of the little girls reported missing in the past three months.  The number of children that had disappeared the current month alone surprised Dean and made his stomach churn over upon itself.  When Sam was a little kid, Dean had constantly worried that someone would snatch him from one of the countless roadside diners, rest stops, or truck weighing stations that John Winchester had stopped at over the years.  Dean's paranoia may have set him up for stomach ulcers at an early age, but Sam had been fortunate enough never to have been stolen or molested, and Dean knew their transient childhood had made them both prime targets.  He had never worried about his own safety the way he obsessed over Sam's.

 

Yet the knowledge that any child was a victim of the human monsters roaming around society, had Dean frothing at the mouth and eager to execute the raping bastards.  It was Dean that had first taught Sam about stranger danger, as John had only been vigilant regarding the supernatural beasts of the world. John had been so wrapped up in his need for revenge, that he had completely forgotten to teach his young sons about all the dangers of the world, human and non-human alike. So much of Sam's upbringing fell upon Dean's small shoulders, and that there were times when he wondered why Sam never called him daddy when he was little. Bobby Singer held their devotion as being their father influence, but if Sam ever broke down his childhood into development stages he would soon see that Dean truly had raised him. Of course, at the time he was just Sam's big brother, and that had been enough.

 

Dean glanced at his wrist watch; it was after lunch so why hadn't Sam called? He frowned, about to speed dial his brother when his phone vibrated in his hand.  "Sammy!" Dean grinned, thankful at being contacted at last. "Did you look at the files I sent?"

 

"Hey to you too, Dean." Sam greeted before lowering his gaze back to his laptop screen. "Shalia Annabelle Voisin. She's five years old and was reported missing two days ago, most likely abducted from her Kinder Care class. There's no notes about where the case is now, or who's handling it; but I figured you'd be on it first thing."

 

Dean scribbled down the name in a small notepad, and tucked the pad into his suit coat pocket. "Absolutely. I’ll make a few calls now, but any real investigation will have to be after hours. I'll ask Benny to leave me here. Can you drive over and pick me up? We can catch dinner on the fly. That okay with you?"

 

"Yeah. I mean, of course." Sam said closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. His head was still sore with the echo of the fleeing migraine. "I'll put on my suit and meet you at work."

 

"Better make it the coffee shop down the street, Cajun Carl’s Coffee House. You can't miss it. It's literally a block before you hit the Fed building." They exchanged a few more comments regarding their plan, before the conversation dropped to an overly familiar territory. "Just like the old days, huh Sammy?"

 

"Yes, it is." Sam couldn't help but smile. "If you ever want to hunt you know that I'm right by your side; either way."

 

"I know." Dean assured Sam sitting down at his desk, and pulling his body in on itself a little. He wanted to keep their conversation private and he didn't want anyone staring at him while he talked to Sam; Benny included.  "I think for now that's over for me. After you left and Dad... It was bloody and I just, I can't okay? Please don't think less of me-"

 

"Hey, no. Of course not, Dean. Please; please never think that okay? I know you. I know how strong and capable you are, and if hunting right now, or ever even; is not good for you, then I stand by you. I promise. So don't say that all right? Don't ever think I'm going to judge you like that, because I won't. Ever."

 

Dean smiled to himself and felt relief sweep through him at Sam's vow. "Running the risk of having a chick flick moment here, Sammy-"

 

"You love me." Sam finished for his big brother tenderly. "Yeah, I know you do. I love you too."

 

Dean chuckled. "Thanks for sparing me having to say that."

 

"Any time. Now hurry up and get done with your work day so we can go find out about that little girl." The longer she was missing the more likely it was she was already dead, and both of them knew it was more than possible they were already far too late to rescue her. They were merely hoping against hope at the moment.

 

"I'll see you soon." Dean ended the call and looked up; Benny was seated at his own desk and their eyes met across the surface of their work stations. "Sammy."

 

Benny nodded. "He good?"

 

"Very." Dean praised more than responded. He quickly looked down at one of the hard copy files on his desk, and turned to his computer key board and typed a few entries on a form he had up on the screen. He was uncomfortably aware of Benny's gaze still resting upon him.  "You crushing on me right now or something big guy?" Dean sniped playfully in attempts to deflect his tension.

 

"Not in the least." Benny tapped the pen he was holding on the desk top, and leaned a little forward in his chair and to one side, in order to get a better view of Dean behind his computer monitor. "Just noticing the cracks forming in your facade. Don't want the damn to burst and be caught unawares is all."

 

Dean held Benny's gaze for several seconds before saying, "We need to talk." He rose from the desk not giving his partner a chance to speak in protest or do anything else but follow him. He led Benny to an open interrogation room, and kept his voice near a whisper as they stood together away from the door. "I need you to have an open mind, brother because I know what I'm saying is the truth: but it still sounds squirrelly as hell to me." Dean paused and placed a hand upon Benny's forearm and lead him further into the room.

 

"Sam has been having really intense migraines. He said they started while he was at Stanford, but he hasn't had one in a while. With these headaches he sometimes gets- uh, visions, I guess you could call them. They're just flashes really, but intense enough that he investigates them after. Last night he saw a sign, and a little girl after his head nearly split in two.  I take care of him, and he starts telling me about the images, he goes upstairs and I'm cleaning up in the basement, and I hear about a burglary over the blue wire. Turns out the place that got robbed is the exact same store Sammy saw in his vision. This morning I get updated missing persons for kids over the past few months, and Sam picks out the little girl he saw last night. I know it's thin but I gotta check it out. If this little girl can be saved, maybe Sammy's the only one that can do it."

 

Benny took a deep breath, allowing Dean's words to tumble through his head. He was familiar with psychic abilities and some of his family members had been imbued with them. He had no reason to doubt that Sam perhaps had visions that were accurate, and he was not about to gamble with a child's life just to follow bureaucratic protocol.  "Your guy in uniform tell you which detectives were on the case?"

 

"I need to call him back, but I'm certain he'll tell me. Then after work Sammy's gonna pick me up and we're going to see if they'll give us updated intel. I'll get the file, witness list, and go from there."

 

Benny nodded. "Count me in. Three's a better spread for canvassing than two."

 

Dean felt his heart swell with gratitude for Benny's friendship and support. "Seriously? You want to help?"

 

"Yes. That little girl should be at home with her family rather than the good lord only knows where, and with who."

 

"Thanks man. I mean it."

 

"S'all in the day's work, Brother." Benny assured placing a hand upon Dean's shoulder.

 

Dean took out his cell phone and texted Sam the change in plans, but that they would still rendezvous at the coffee house after Dean's shift ended.  He was anxious to get started and hoped that Shalia's life had the time to spare.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dean heard the Impala before it actually pulled into the parking lot, and he turned a pride filled smile at Benny, before exiting the shop to greet Sam. Sam rolled down the driver's window at Dean's approach, his own wide smile matching his brother's perfectly.

 

"I thought Baby would want to help too." Sam was a little surprised that Dean leaned in through the window and took his lips in a passionate kiss, resting one hand on the nape of his neck. The intensity of Dean's kiss had Sam's head spinning, and for an instant he forgot why he was sitting in the Impala wearing a suit. He was a bit breathless when Dean pulled back and handed Sam his travel cup.

 

"For you, Baby Boy. Now scoot over."

 

Sam obeyed and realized that there was fresh coffee in the mug and he took a sip, expression deeming it good. He looked back over his left shoulder greeting Benny, as the older male slid into the back seat behind Dean.

 

"I gather you know what detectives caught the case?"

 

"That, and where they are right now." Dean smirked unconsciously running his hand around Baby's steering wheel affectionately.  "You ready to be tall, dark, and FBI-ish, Sammy?"

 

Sam chuckled, and surreptitiously opened the badge wallet he held just above the bench seat, displaying his newly minted and forged FBI credentials. "Born ready, Dean."

 

Dean nodded in pride filled approval, and backed out of the parking space.  Sammy still knew how to create counterfeit identifications, and use the proper updates Homeland Security issued every year, because Dean had taught him. Though Dean had learned from John, both boys were superior artists to their father's abilities. Sam had been a willing student, even if he preferred it if Dean took care of their credentials during hunts.  Dean was a little disappointed that Sam most likely wouldn't need his fake identification unless they split from Benny. There was no way he was going to tell the older male just how he and Sam broke laws previously posing as law enforcement all over the country.  He hadn't admitted to his life as a hunter, and wasn't ready to impart such information as of yet.

 

A few minutes later, the trio were had entered the third precinct on the opposite side of the city, and quickly found one of the detectives that was working the Shalia Voisin case. It didn't take much to entice the overworked, overly tired, overly half assed cop to turn over the file to them even if they were the FEDs. After a quick review of the details, Sam and Dean headed over to the Kinder Care facility, while Benny remained at the precinct to review the security footage from a bank and traffic cam that was directly across from the Kinder Care building, to see if he could run down the evidence from the Boutique break in the previous night.

 

Sam and Dean were fortunate that there was still a chaperone at the Kinder Care still at work, as well as an after hours’ janitor. Both had been present the day of Shalia's abduction, and while the Winchester brother's interviews didn't yield any useful additional information, it gave Sam and Dean a chance to get a lay of the surrounding land. Sometimes, there were clues left where one least expected them. They attempted to imagine possible scenarios of how Shalia Voisin might have been kidnapped in broad day light, amongst other parents picking up their children.

 

A few minutes after arriving, the brothers were on their way back to the police precinct, as Benny had found the robbery footage declaring it "a must see to believe". Dean exchanged a meaning filled look with Sam, as he relayed Benny's message.

 

"This might be our kind of case." Dean wasn't certain if he was happy about the situation or not, but he saw Sam's shoulders rounding with dread.

 

"Did he say what was so strange about the tape?"

 

Dean shook his head. "He's a man of few words, but I could tell he didn't like whatever it is he saw." Dean placed a hand at the back of Sam's right elbow. "Let's go."

 

Sam scrubbed his left hand down his face and walked before Dean towards the Impala. Children; why did the things in the dark always have to go after children? Sam hoped once again that they wouldn't be too late in rescuing Shalia.


	2. Visions, Swamps, and Shalia Voisin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Benny pilfer a case from local PD regarding a missing child, and Sam's visions lead them to her and her abductor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All mistakes my own. As always thanks to my wife and muse- I love you! 
> 
> We all need more Benny in our lives so- here's my contribution. 
> 
> Thank you for reading. All comments, suggestions, criticisms and praise welcome.

The security tape of the robbery at Philomena’s Pretties Boutique, showed next to nothing. Which created an issue, as what it did depict was the slight movement of some merchandise but no criminal in frame.  Benny shifted his gaze from the black and white images of a dress rack on the small monitor screen, to Dean and Sam.

 

"Slowed the tape down to frame by frame and that's when I called y'all."  Benny punched a couple of buttons on the playback equipment and a humanoid shape appeared upon the screen.  "Clearly this _person_ was movin' too fast for the camera to see in real time. Now you tell me what sorta man can move like that?"

 

Dean and Sam exchanged meaning filled looks that did not go unnoticed by Benny. "Something you want to share with the rest of us boss?" he asked Dean pointedly.  Dean refused to commit to any pontification until he and Sam reviewed the rest of the footage frame by frame and the traffic camera footage from outside of the Kinder Care facility. The figure that whisked Shalia into its arms vibrated at a high speed, the images blurred and gone within the blink of a frame or two.

 

Dean groaned and straightened his form, Benny mirroring his stance and their eyes met over Sam's seated frame.  "I have the answer but you're not gonna like hearing it."

 

Benny arched an eye brow. "Tell me, Dean. This little girl is in trouble and I want to help her get back to her mama. So any and all, 'answers' as you say, lay 'em down."

 

Dean's right hand slid unconsciously to Sam's shoulder and he gripped the hard muscle beneath. Sam braced himself for what was coming, a little surprised that his brother hadn't at least hinted to Benny of their lineage prior to this case.  Sam continued to examine the screen captures, pushing his shoulder up, thus granting Dean silent, moral support.

 

"Remember how when you asked me what I did for a living before and I skirted the issue?"

 

"Vividly." Benny allowed crossing his arms over his broad chest.  "You attempted too one night when you over indulged in my well-aged bourbon."

 

Dean shifted uncomfortably and loosened his tie. "I did? Uh, do you remember what I said?"

 

Benny contemplated the memory for a couple of beats before responding.  "Monster hunter.  Compared yourself to an impoverished Bruce Wayne; if he protected Gotham from witches, sirens, demons and the like." It didn't escape Benny's attention that Dean seemed somewhat pleased with the mental picture. "Are you implying that the monster kidnapped that little girl is not of human origin?"

 

"A little." Dean responded holding up a finger in emphasis. "And from what we've seen on the tapes, and given what city we're in, my moneys on a vampire."

 

Sam swiveled in the office chair and looked up at Benny, gagging his reaction to Dean's words. Dean's grip on his shoulder had lessened significantly and they waited in silence for a few beats as they permitted Benny's logical mind to process what he was being told. Granted, it was a lot to take in all at once, but Dean had high hopes that his partner would take it in stride.

 

"Vampire? As in, blood drinking, undead, ghoul?"

 

"Actually ghouls are a different species altogether." Sam interjected helpfully. "But while the folk lore is quite different from the reality, yes; we're talking about a Dracula-esque creature that drinks human blood to survive."

 

"See?" Dean offered holding out his hands in grand gesture. "When you consider that this thing can move faster than the human eye can see, and is something that every day law enforcement types aren't equipped to handle let alone look to for a suspect? Then yeah, not sounding so crazy right?" Dean's humor tinged interjection was a thinly veiled attempt to put Benny at ease.

 

Benny grunted and looked from Dean to Sam. "You _both_ believe this?"

 

Sam nodded. "We grew up tracking and killing these types of creatures. And right now Shalia Voisin is living a nightmare and needs our help to get her clear of it. You can judge us insane and walk away and we won't fault you for it, but all we ask is that you help us find the girl first."

 

Dean searched Benny's impassive features. "You in or what, brother?"

 

Benny sighed and shook his head before meeting Sam's gaze. "Tell me everything about vampires. I can't help if I don't have the proper intel."

 

Dean didn't bother trying to conceal his grin of pride.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They worked far into the night educating Benny and attempting to pick up the vampire's trail. While Sam felt the corrugated metal with the numbers and red symbol painted on it was vital to their search, he had no reference of location to point them in.  Technically such materials could be found everywhere due to the destruction of Hurricane Katrina years prior, along with the slow rebuilding of the city.  Frustrated with little more than fragments of guesses serving as clues, the trio headed home in the early morning hours.  Dean was going to grab a couple of hours of sleep before shaving, donning a new suit and heading back to the Federal building. Sam would be tasked with looking up anything that resembled their current case in the area, or oddities that even remotely could give them a lead to follow up on, in addition to seeing if he could find the origin of the symbol and numbers in his vision.

 

Dean stifled a yawn as he entered the kitchen, dragging his feet, bleary eyes barely open as he walked over to where Sam sat in the breakfast nook. He petted a hand over Sam's thick, dark hair and paused to place a kiss upon the crown of his head before heading in the direction of the coffee maker.

 

"Anything?"

 

"Not yet." Sam groused clearly upset by the lack of information at his disposal.  His jaw set hard and he closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. If he could have another vision, even a tiny jolt of images he would feel better about the case. He felt an external pressure that reminded him every second lost was another second less Shalia had to live. Unless she was already dead, but he was not prepared to surrender to that conclusion just yet.  Sam jumped a little as he felt Dean grip his shoulders in attempts to massage the tension from them slightly.

 

"We'll keep at it. See where we are tonight and I'm sure we'll find something."

 

Sam grunted in disagreement and rested his left cheek against the top of Dean's hand.  "We're missing something. And I can't figure out what it is yet. We're running out of time.  It kills me that the one time in our lives we have the most resources at our disposal we can't find jack shit to go on!"

 

Dean ran his thumbs up the nape of Sam's neck into his hairline.  "We know what we're doing and something's gonna shake loose. We just need to work it longer. We'll find her."

 

Sam wanted to believe; would give anything to be as confident as his brother but he just couldn't commit to the lie.  He was failing the little girl and all he could do was continue to dig until her corpse floated up in the bayou at some future date.

 

Dean leaned down and kissed Sam's head a couple of times before pressing his left cheek against Sam's right one and nuzzled him tenderly.  "You didn't sleep. Promise me you will a little before you pick me up tonight."

 

"I can't Dean." Sam could be nothing but honest this many hours out with no rest and hard set anxiety upon his shoulders.  "There has to be _something_ -"

 

"Stop." Dean demanded straightening his body before stepping around to Sam's side. He made eye contact with his brother.  "I know; it's a _child_ and we both know what vampires can do with kids. But I need you to take a break, eat something, get a few hours of sleep so when our break comes, you can handle it. You're no good to me, or that little girl if you're running on fumes."

 

Sam knew Dean was right; hell, he had given similar speeches to Dean over the years. It didn't make hearing his own sentiments thrown back in his face any easier to endure.  Dean had always been quite bitchy after Sam had instructed him to take care of himself, and now Sam felt the same annoyance. Yet instead of snapping at Dean, he took a breath and nodded.

 

"Alright. I'll do it. But promise me if you get a lead you'll call me?"

 

"Cross my heart." Dean assured touching Sam's cheek with his warm palm.  "I gotta go get dressed so, come on. I warmed up the bed for you."

 

Sam smiled, the action light but it reached his eyes as he closed the laptop lid and stood up to follow Dean.  He was going to miss his brother when he went to work and was slightly miffed with himself for not taking advantage of curling up next to Dean several hours ago when they arrived home. He needed the solid mass of Dean next to him in bed due to his current feelings of failure and helplessness.

 

Soon. Something had to break in their search for the little girl.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The music box played in the corner of the room on a child’s vanity dresser.  The notes were strained, dissonant and Sam couldn’t recognize the song.  A tiny ballerina spun in a slow circle, hiccupping every few seconds and catching on a note to drag for another few seconds before freeing itself to commence spinning once more.  The tutu on the porcelain, miniature girl was real tulle and frayed at an edge.  The paint on the ballerina had been changed from peach too brown, the blond hair now black and lips a smeared, ruby, red.  The repaint was sloppy but the music box itself dusted regularly, and kept safe from tampering.  The outer wood was cherry lacquered and delicate flowers were painted on the center of the lid, gold filigree pressed into the corners and curves of the carved box. Tiny clawed feet were painted gold to match the metal decoration.  The inside of the box was lined in pearl colored silk, and a tiny, heart shaped mirror with a filigree frame was attached to the underside of the lid.  The reflected image of the brown skinned ballerina looked as awkward as the un-melodic music sounded.

 

Sam turned his head away from the vanity and the music box, his vision sporadic between vividly clear and spastic blurs.  The room was small, the far wall long and graduated, but he couldn’t quite come to focus on it.  Instead there was a little girl standing in the center of what appeared a long, narrow, hallway, tears staining her cheeks and a white dress resembling something a flower girl at a wedding would wear.  It was Shalia; the missing girl; and Sam felt his chest constrict with dread.

 

“Shalia? Are you okay, sweetheart?”

 

_The little girl began sobbing and she shook her head. The braids swished gracefully and slow, the colored beads at the ends of each braid clacking softly against one another.  Next, Shalia moved her hands up to her throat, which was slit from ear to ear, a gruesome display of butchery as blood cascaded down the front of her white dress._

_“Mister tall man please!” She begged Sam with a hoarse voice, growing more distant as she bled out in the room.  “Please, help me.”_ Sam’s vision abruptly spun out and he saw the imprint of the red symbol and numbers painted in black upon corrugated metal.

 

Sam gasped and sat straight up bed, arms flailing for purchase and heart beat racing within his throat.  The room was dark, but vaguely recognizable, and yet more comforting still was Dean’s annoyed grousing from the other side of the mattress over having been struck by Sam’s arm and awaken.

 

“Jesus, Sam, what the hell?” Annoyance vanished quickly replaced by concern as Dean’s gaze drank in the destress of his younger sibling.  “Whoa, wait. What’s going on Baby Boy? You okay?”

 

Sam shook his head comforted by Dean’s arms around him.  “Dream, just a dream.” He breathed wrapping his own embrace around his brother. He pressed his nose into the familiar scent of the juncture of Dean’s throat and shoulder, thankful that it was a healing balm to his anxiety. Safe; he was safe even if Shalia wasn’t yet.

 

“It’s going to kill her if it hasn’t already. I saw it Dean; we have to find her.”

 

“Hey, hey,” Dean soothed running a hand down the back of Sam’s head and to his back. “We’re gonna. Trust me. We’ll find that little girl, just like we used to. Remember? We saved a lot of people and she’s gonna be no different.” Dean paused and kissed Sam’s temple before returning to stroking his hair. “But if we don’t get some sleep, we aren’t gonna be any good to anyone.”

 

Sam hugged Dean tighter, one hand balling a palm full of the material of Dean’s tee shirt into a fist upon his back. “I know, I know.” Sam assured half mumbling into Dean’s shoulder. “We’re just running out of time.”

 

Unable to counter that with something constructive, Dean settled for kissing Sam’s temple once again. “Close your eyes, Sammy.” Dean felt Sam’s lips nestle against the heated flesh of his throat.  “Let’s lay back down.”

 

Reluctantly Sam allowed himself to be pulled back down to the mattress and immediately went back to plastering himself against Dean. His nose returned to its preferred location and he closed his eyes. “I hate these visions Dean.”

 

“I know.” Dean countered uncertain if what Sam had seen this time wasn’t just a dream.  “Try and sleep now.”

 

Too exhausted to argue further Sam obeyed.

 

Over breakfast Sam doodled variations of what he thought the symbol was from his dream. He had only seen it twice now, in a split second flash and his memory of it was malleable when he was awake.  The numbers however were black, common font and those he could recall with certainty.  DEAZ 472016 3. That was a starting point and if he could trace the identification of the trailer through this number, they could perhaps find where Shalia was being held.

 

Dean leaned in for a kiss good bye and Sam pushed a post it note into his hand during the exchange.  Dean frowned down at the slip of paper in his hand, eyebrows raising as he met Sam’s gaze.

 

“It’s the number on the container in my vision. See what you and Benny can find out about it today.”

 

Dean smiled and leaned in to press his lips against Sam’s for another few seconds.  “So proud to call you my hunting partner.” He muttered daring to rub his smooth face against the morning stubble darkening Sam’s.

 

“Go.” Sam grinned pushing Dean gently back from him.  “And call me later with the lead.”

 

Reluctantly Dean withdrew towards the front door and vowed to Sam he would comply. Once in the car with Benny he pocketed the post it and handed the travel mug he held in his hand to his partner.

 

“Long night, Brother. I owed you a coffee.”

 

Benny chuckled softly, deep in his chest and toasted Dean with the mug.  “Thank you for remembering.”

 

Dean shrugged and put on his seat belt.  “How’s it feel to know that vampires exist and they are hardly what Anne Rice said they’re supposed to be?”

 

Benny grunted and lowered the mug from his lips.  “A bit Twilight Zone, but I’m coping.” He put the travel mug in a cup holder.  “Did you and your Sammy get any sleep?”

 

“Some.” Dean rotated his head making the vertebra pop at the top of his spine. “He had a nightmare, or one of his visions.  He’s really beating himself up that he can’t give us solid leads. But he did, manage to see the number of that metal container with the symbol on it. Figured we could run it through the port authority or something when we get a free second.”

 

“Well that’s something.” Benny praised. They lapsed into their usual morning banter, each trying to stave off exhaustion from the previous late night. Burning the candle at both ends had never been Benny’s specialty, but for a child the sacrifice was more than worth it.  “If y’all need back up again this evening, I’m available.” Benny offered leaving no room to question if he had the Winchester’s backs; he explicitly did.

 

Dean smirked in direct response and patted Benny’s shoulder affectionately. They drove to work in comfortable silence for the next seven minutes.

 

By late morning Sam was up and moving around, all be it slowly. He texted Dean immediately asking if he had found any information on the numbers from the container.  He ate, showered, and went back to his books and lap top in attempts to track down the illusive, red symbol.  It was midafternoon when Dean called him on his cell.

 

“De? What did you find out?”

 

Dean chuckled softly. “Was your hand on the phone all this time?”

 

“Basically.” Sam admitted.

 

“It’s a shipping container. Registered to Astro Electronics, until April ‘05.”

 

“And Katrina hit in August.” Sam ran a hand back through his hair.  “Any chance you know who the container was sold too?”

 

“Private citizen. One,” Dean paused and regarded his notes. “Hank Tooley. We’ll swing by his place after work. See what he has to say.”

 

Sam was a little relieved that his vision had yielded some positive results at last.  “Why should we wait? “

 

“Sam.” Dean warned authoritatively. “Because you need back up, that’s why. I don’t want you going alone. And before you get all pissy, I’m not saying you can’t handle the situation on your own, alright? All I’m saying that if it’s a nest of vampires you’re going to need our help. So just hang tight and we’ll follow up this lead in a few hours; **_together_**.”

 

Sam sighed. “Okay Dean, you’re right. Am I picking you up again? Same place?”

 

“Yeah, that be great, Sammy.” Dean praised not entirely certain if Sam had gotten the message or not. What if after he hung up his little brother acted like a bull moose and just barged his way into Hank Tooley’s purview? What if Tooley was the vampire? He figured that with a Stanford education and the fact that he said he’d wait, Sam considered the fact that he should be patient. Dean elected to trust Sam and relaxed somewhat.

 

“See you then?”

 

“Yeah. I love you.”

 

“Same.” Dean uttered with complete affection. The call severed and Dean went back to aiding Benny in the questioning of two witnesses to their official case.

 

Sam stared at his cell phone in his hand for several seconds, before he rose from the desk chair and made his way to the master bedroom. He slid open the closet and withdrew his FBI suit.  A few minutes later when he was freshly shaved and dressed, he headed back down the hallway to his laptop. There couldn’t be that many Hank Tooley’s; and versions of the name thereof; in New Orleans.  Armed with his Taurus and Tooley’s address, Sam exited the house and into the garage.  The Impala had all the further weapons he would require if Tooley was indeed a vampire. After all, Sam had loaded up the false trunk with them once he and Dean moved into their new house. Dean might be finished with hunting, but Sam had been confident a case would rear its ugly head at some point in their near future. He hated to be right when the victim was a child, but his foresight proved fortuitous.

 

Hank Tooley lived in a rundown tenement just east of downtown where Sam had to pick up his brother in two hours. The fifth floor was stifling hot and echoed with televisions turned up too loud, children jabbering and babies shrieking for attention.  The paint was peeling off the walls that hadn’t been painted in more than a decade, and Sam had walked corridors as these aplenty in his lifetime. He had lived in similar circumstances and hunted in them. He found Tooley’s door easily and banged on it with a fist.

 

After several seconds of silence from the opposite side of the door Sam banged again, more insistently this time.  “Mr. Tooley? My name is Sam Poe. I’d like a word with you please.”  Dean had always used rock monikers for his false names but since Sam had created his badge he donned himself with a literary sir name instead.  Sam heard distinct movement behind the door.

 

“I know you’re there Mr. Tooley. I only need five minutes of your time.”

 

The door opened a crack, the useless chain hanging across the man’s face. His eyes were yellow in the corners and threads of red stood out brightly reaching through them to his irises. His hair was salt and pepper, shaggy and unkempt at the sides of his head, and thread bear upon his crown and brow line.  He hadn’t shaved in several days and his features were weather worn, but now pale, as he hadn’t been outside in weeks.

 

“Who’d you say y’are?”

 

Sam offered a thin smile and held up his FBI credentials. “Agent Poe. I just have a couple of questions in an ongoing investigation. It should only take a couple of minutes of your time. May I come in please?”

 

Suspicion narrowed Tooley’s gaze; the one eye that Sam could see; and the door closed a little further.  “I, I didn’t do nothing. I don’t know what you think but, I ain’t seen nothin’ ever.”

 

Sam put on his best patient expression and attempted to appear more genial and trustworthy.  He lowered his badge and pocketed it.  “You misunderstand, you’re not the one under investigation. You’ve committed no crime.”

 

“I know that!” Tooley hissed closing the door another inch. “Just said. Whatever you want here, I ain’t got nothing to say.” He moved to shut the door but Sam was quicker, pushing his forearm against the light wood, prepared to rush Tooley if need be.

 

“If I could just ask you one question, you’d be helping my case immensely.” Sam reached into his pocket with his opposite hand and pulled out his money clip, a fifty-dollar bill the first visible note.  “And I’d be grateful.” Sam permitted the implication to hang in the air between them.

 

Tooley looked from the money, to Sam’s face, and back again. “Yeah.” He grunted reaching up to unlock the security chain.  He opened the door fully and stepped back to allow Sam entry.  The interior of the apartment had complementary décor to reflect the decay of the hallway outside.  Tooly paced and then moved away from Sam, placing both hands upon his head.  “Ask your question. I got things t’do.”

 

The drug paraphernalia on the coffee table and the acrid smell of crack hanging in the atmosphere, Sam well knew just what activities Tooley attended too in private.

 

“Where is the shipping container you purchased from Astro Electronics in 2005?”

 

For several seconds Hank Tooley blinked at Sam in confusion, until the words formed within his mind.  He blanched, paling instantly and looked like he was about to bolt to the window several feet away and jump through it to the fire escape; regardless that it wasn’t even open.

 

“Why’d you- Why you want to know that? It’s nowhere. I mean, it could be anywhere. I ain’t seen it in nine years, man.”

 

“When was the last time you saw it?”

 

“Before Katrina. After it was just, gone. Like everything else; _gone_.”

 

It wasn’t the full truth and Sam well knew it. Tooley was perspiring, his heart beat was rapid as Sam observed by the pulsing of his jugular.  The man couldn’t stand still and his expression clearly televised that he knew something about the container that he wasn’t revealing.  Sam sighed softly and brought his hands to rest in front of him, one palm on the opposite hand.

 

“Mr. Tooley, before the storm hit; did you, perhaps; sell the container to someone else?”

 

Tooley swayed, looking as if he were a sing gasp away from collapsing upon the floor unconscious. “I- “He faltered and took a few steps back from Sam. “Why you care?”

 

“I explained myself.” Sam informed, clearly not about to give further ground. “I have no interest in you, only the container and the person you sold it too.”

 

Tooley visibly gulped and shook his head. “No. No. Can’t say.”

 

Sam held out a hand, Tooley twitching at the movement and nearly urinating on himself. It wouldn’t be the first time he had done so, Sam was certain. “Can you tell me if there’s a general area it _might_ be located?”

 

Tooley’s eyes flooded with tears, genuine fear thrumming through his expression and body. “An’ then you’ll leave?” He rasped pulling his arms and hands against his chest.

 

Sam nodded and slowly reached into his pocket to withdraw the money he had promised the junkie. Tooley’s eyes followed his every movement as he unfolded the fifty from the money clip. He licked his lips obviously hungry for it; his addiction overpowering his fear momentarily.

 

“Where is the container?”

 

“Swamp lands; Branch Marsh Reserve; out Eden Isle side.” Tooley inched towards Sam, and when the taller man held out the money, Hank snatched it from his hand. Immediately Tooley shoved the money into his ratty jeans pocket and jutted his chin towards the door. “Fuck off now. I said all m’gonna say t’ya.”

 

“Thank you for your time.” Sam dismissed walking backwards in the direction of the door. Only after his hand touched the knob did he risk turning slightly to exit the door.  He had taken two steps into the hallway when he heard the deadbolt latch and the safety chain drag through the battered slot.

 

He had half an hour of traffic to navigate before reaching Dean, and if he was lucky he’d be on time.  Sitting at lights or trapped in deadlocked traffic, Sam researched the areas Tooley had mentioned, and any private owners that might own land in Eden Isle. Not exactly a needle in a haystack, but it was going to require more investigation before the Winchester brothers could locate the shipping container, and hopefully Shalia Voisin.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dean was struggling to control his temper and Sam wasn’t making it easy for him. Sam was infuriatingly using logic in a situation where none existed past, ‘ _Sam broke rule number one;_ **DON’T GO ALONE** ’. He was nonchalant about the event, explaining where they had to go now, and how they might wish to proceed. He wasn’t even wearing his FBI suit to add insult to injury. Nothing was right, and Sam was taking reckless chances with his own life. Dean seized Sam by the elbow and drug him away from Benny to the alleyway, pushing him back against the brick wall a few feet from the employee entrance of the coffee shop.

 

“You said you’d wait! What the _hell_ , Sam?”

 

The impact of brick to his back had not been too hard, but he knew that Dean was torqueing up to become livid if Sam didn’t handle the next few statements carefully. He rose the index finger of his right hand.

 

“No, I said that you were ‘ _right’_. I never said that I would wait for you to get off work.”

 

“Stop talking fricken semantics!” Dean spat shrilly as his face turned beet red and the chords of his neck bulged outward. Dean punched Sam’s biceps a few times, venting a little of his tension and fear. “You know what you did and why I’m gonna knock you into next year!”

 

Sam flinched a little at the impact of Dean’s abuse, before he straightened his spine and took Dean by the arms to still him. “Dean!” He snapped sharply; his tone fell to gentle reassurance. “The guy was not a creature; he was more afraid of me than you’re afraid _for_ me right now.” He smoothed his palms down Dean’s arms to the elbows and reversed direction, until he could rest his hands upon Dean’s steeled shoulders.  “We have a location to find; a little girl to save; and for the first time in this case we’re actually close to accomplishing that.” He frowned as Dean spastically forced Sam’s hands off of him.

 

Dean pointed a trembling finger in Sam’s face. “You wait for me if there’s a next time! Got that?” Sam nodded and crossed his heart with a finger. Dean glared at Sam for a few silent seconds, snap turned upon his heel and stormed off back to the parking lot and Benny.  He knew that Sam would follow and didn’t even spare a glance over his shoulder to verify.

 

Benny’s smile was slightly bemused as Dean reached him at the Impala. “So what’s the plan now, chief?”

 

Dean hooked a thumb back over his shoulder and spat, “Ask him. He’s the one with all the friggin’ bright ideas today.”

 

Sam rolled his eyes and Benny’s smile deepened. Sam addressed Dean’s partner directly, knowing that his brother would over hear him.

 

“I figured since we have a drive ahead of us, we should go home; let you guys change into street clothes, grab some dinner at the house and head out. I’ll have a little better idea of who’s private land we should investigate and the terrain after I do a little research. Shouldn’t take long.” Sam nodded at Benny. “We’ll drop you off at your place and once you’re finished changing head on over. There’s plenty of leftovers from earlier this week.”

 

Dean’s eyebrows raised a little at the direction; he had done some cooking over the weekend to prepare meals ahead of time so they could just warm up healthy diners quickly.  Sometimes all he wanted to do when he got home, was have something to eat, then sex with Sam until they both fell asleep for the night.  Dean pulled the Impala’s keys out of his suit pant pocket.

 

“See? All figured out.” His sarcasm knew no bounds and it would take the drive home; at least; for his anger to subside.  Eventually it would because he could never remain angry at Sam for long.

 

In the back seat Benny continued to keep his amusement to himself.

 

Within a half hour of being dropped off at his own home, Benny was sitting in the Winchester’s kitchen discussing his knowledge of the Louisiana coast lines, rivers, and swamps with Sam.  Dean fussed around the two of them, setting the table, providing drinks and finally placing a plate of food before each man. With a flourish he shut Sam’s laptop with a little more force than necessary, and snagged it off of the table surface before replacing it with Sam’s diner plate. Sam thanked him, and watched Dean’s ass when he turned away to place the offending laptop upon the counter so Sam could pay attention to his meal.

 

Benny chuckled to himself, fondly recalling a time when he would indulge in the same ogling behavior with his wife June. While Dean was not a woman, he certainly lit up when he was able to take care of Sam, waiting on the other male upon hand and foot.  It was an endearing trait, one that Sam didn’t take advantage of. Sam was perfectly capable of taking care of his own basic needs and running a household on his own. However, it was obvious to Sam just how much joy it brought Dean; how much purpose; and he was not about to deny his older brother that which Dean had known his entire life.  Benny enjoyed watching the fluid interaction between the brothers, even though he was unaware of their sibling connection.  He suspected that the two might be family; cousins most likely; who didn’t advertise the fact.  Dean had granted enough unintentional verbal queues over the years that Benny could easily connect the dots.  He didn’t care if the two were kissing cousins, or perhaps even uncle and nephew; he recognized soulmates when he saw them and wouldn’t begrudge any man the love of his life. Just because Benny’s was dead and buried with their beautiful daughters, didn’t mean that he would wish that pain on Dean and Sam.

 

The meal was three fourths consumed when Dean addressed Benny from across the table.  “You familiar with where we’re goin’?”

 

Benny nodded and swallowed the bite of food he had been chewing. He wiped his mouth with a napkin just in case there was any debris threatening to tangle in his close cropped beard.  “It’s about a two-hour drive; less if you’re behind the wheel.” Benny winked at Dean with good humor, Sam sniggering a little at the truth of the comment.  “I-90 east until we hit the 10, and continue east out to Lake Pontchartain. Though, I don’t know how fortunate we’ll be finding that shipping container. Eden Isle was destroyed by Katrina for the most part. Folks out there have let nature heal the wounds past decade. But you never know; some swamp clans might be squatting. We should watch ourselves.”

 

Dean nodded. “How much area are we talking?”

 

Sam sniffed and raised his head from his meal to answer his older brother.  “Lacombe is 19, 000 acres, which includes Branch Marsh Reserve. The reserve was founded in 1994, but like Benny said; there could be more out there than snakes, loons and other indigenous wildlife.” Sam smirked slightly at the question of _‘and alligators?’_ in Dean’s green eyes. “But Eden is only a little over 4 square miles, with 3 miles of that actual land.”

 

“Well that sucks.” Dean grumbled about the trek in the mud and reeds ahead of them.

 

Sam shrugged. “With any luck we’ll find the container quickly.” He wanted to cling to that unlikely hope himself.

 

“Will we need a boat?”

 

Benny considered the answer. “Depends on what direction y’all are thinkin’ be best to enter from. By water we save an hour’re so. Provided Dean here, walks as fast as he drives.”

 

Dean balled up his napkin and tossed it in the direction of Benny’s face before meeting Sam’s gaze.  “Well?”

 

Sam looked at Benny. “Do you think we’ll have access to a boat once we get there?”

 

Benny smiled. “I might know a few folk out that way. S’been a few years but they would want to help that little girl as much as we do.”

 

Sam nodded and Dean stated, “Boat then. Right.” He glanced at Sam. “You up on your tetanus inoculations Sammy?”

 

Sam rolled his eyes playfully. “Yes, Dean. Living with you I always had to be.”

 

Dean rose from the table and started gathering plates.  “Time to go, boys. Moon light’s burning and we have us a kid to find.”

 

With Dean’s foot heavy gas pedal style, the commute to Eden Isle had a little over a third shaved off of it.  Once Dean found a sufficiently secluded place to park the Impala, the three stood over the open trunk arming themselves with machetes, silver bullet filled ammunition cartridges, and a syringe of dead man’s blood each.  Benny had been well briefed on what to expect and how to defend himself against an attack. However, he chose the primary task of securing Shalia Voisin once she was located. Though confident in his manhood, Benny was hardly averse to save the hostage while allowing the brother’s Winchester to do what they had been trained to do since early childhood. Benny went to secure the trio a boat, and Dean stood with Sam at the sludge bank going over a map of the area to orient themselves.

 

Sam could barely contain his agitation and kept pacing and running a hand back through his hair. He looked in the direction Benny had disappeared through the reeds, anxious to set off in search of the little girl.  Dean frowned.

 

“If she’s dead- “

 

Sam’s gaze snapped to Dean. “She won’t be.”

 

Doubt tinged Dean’s expression. “But if she is, Benny and I have to call it in.”

 

Sam swallowed. “I know.”

 

“You going to be okay with that?”

 

“No, Dean.” Sam exhaled finally allowing the expulsion of some of his tension. “I had visions about her; a dream; what good are those things if they don’t save her? We should have figured this out faster. I **_need_** her to be okay.”

 

Dean held up placating palms.  “I know Baby Boy; I do too. But if she isn’t, we gotta be prepared for that.” Sam nodded and looked towards the water that stretched out like onyx glass to the horizon.  Dean placed his hands upon Sam’s shoulders and waited for his younger brother to meet his gaze.  “We’ll find her, Sammy. Because of you, we’ll find her.” He had no doubts and Sam wished that he could share in his older sibling’s certainty.

 

Hearing something slither in the reeds, the brother’s tensed and hands instinctively drew weapons.  A second later Benny emerged from the tall grass, a man in rubber coveralls and Wellingtons following closely behind. The two men paused resting the aluminum boat upon the soft ground.  Benny noted the drawn weapons and hooked a thumb over his shoulder in indication.

 

“Could use a hand toting the engine out here if y’all are finished with showing off your well-endowed shooters.”

 

Dean smirked and holstered his weapon first, Sam slower to follow. The younger male did nod his chin at the unknown man in reference.  “Who’s this?”

 

“This,” Benny paused and reached back to motion for the interloper to join him. “here is Edouard [Onésime](http://www.behindthename.com/name/one10sime), better known as Remy Ju ‘round these parts. He’s kindly offered us the use of his Surface Driver in order to find that little angel fish we’re looking for.”

 

Remy Ju nodded at Sam and Dean, Dean being more congenial and shaking the man’s hand uttering his thanks.  Sam however just offered a slight smirk and hand wave from a short distance away. Remy Ju nodded back in the reeds where his surface boat rested.

 

“She’s gotta Vanguard 35 horse power; keep her slow and she’ll get you where you need to be like she was y’mama. Good for huntin’ but I like to fish. You boys like that? Fishin’?”

 

Benny smiled and rested a hand upon Remy Ju’s shoulder. “Now don’t get Dean and I started on fishing tales, brother. We’d be here till our hair grays and falls out.”

 

Remy Ju laughed, the sound more like a snort and cough then amusement. But his head bobbed up and down as he grinned. “Oh you good folk Benny Layfette. I liked your pappy back in the day.”

 

“You did. And I’m grateful for the loan of your Dolly Day.” He patted Remy Ju’s shoulder once more and Dean noticed that the name Dolly Day was painted on the port side of the bow.  “I’ll have to have you and the kin out for supper soon.”

 

Remy Ju waved off Benny’s offer. “Come by here and we’ll fix you up. Can bring some of those fixin’s my mammy likes so much.”

 

Benny promised he would and motioned to Dean and Sam to bring the boat to the bank, before following Remy Ju through the weeds to retrieve the engine.  Within fifteen minutes the three had the engine attached and boat loaded. Benny handled the motor while Sam and Dean kept an eye out along the bank line and before the bow. Sam’s anxiousness was palpable and every so often Dean exchanged a look with Benny reassuring his partner that Sam would be fine when it was time to act.

 

They searched for an hour toward the west and then elected to have a caucus and discuss an alternate plan. Flashlights pointed at the unfolded map seemed useless to Sam. He had hoped that his vision would have provided more guidance than just a symbol on a shipping container.  Was it near the shore line? And just where inland could it be? There were hardly any landmarks to direct them and Sam felt his frustration grow.  Dean and Benny continued to converse over the map, and Sam frowned looking out into the black horizon and expanse of water. Miles away he could see dots of light indicating some form of civilization, but sporadic along the dips and juts of the natural bank line.

 

Abruptly the hairs on the back of his neck bristled and Sam reached out to smack Dean on the arm to get his attention. “Dean!” Before Dean could grouse a response Sam was silencing both Benny and Dean’s talking.  “Listen.”

 

Dean met his brother’s gaze. “What did you hear?”

 

“Nothing.” Revealed Sam.

 

Benny and Dean listened and realized that the only sounds they could distinguish was the gentle slosh of water against the sides of the boat whenever one of them moved.  There were no crickets, frogs, birds nor any other of the nocturnal sounds that should; and had previously existed; present.

 

“Well, that ain’t good.” Dean surmised in a whisper drawing his gun, map and discussion forgotten.

 

Sam motioned to the bank and Benny nodded, raised the engine before picking up an emergency oar to push them toward a landing site.  Once they were out of the boat and on solid footing they used hand signals to communicate.  They fanned out in a vee formation, Sam taking point against Dean’s better judgement.  As much as he loved his brother and recognized that Dean only wanted to protect him, it was logical in this instance that Sam take the lead. His visions had lead them here, now it was time to let him carry the tracking and hunt both to completion.

 

A few yards into the marsh the anticipated nocturnal sounds returned rising in degrees to their former level, rather than erupting all at once.  Dean and Benny took turns alternating coverage of their backs while Sam stayed focused ahead. He was listening, for what he wasn’t certain but Sam elected to allow his instincts temporary free reign.  Slowly his westward direction shifted to north east, and his brother and Benny followed without objection.  Flashlight beams brought flying insects into view, Sam kept both the light and his eyes moving. After five minutes of wading and another five walking on soft ground, Sam raised a fist and all three males stopped dead in their tracks and crouched down slightly.  Dean moved to Sam’s shoulder and his younger brother pointed in to the distance, as Dean realized he was seeing the rusted top of a gray shipping container.

 

They had found it.  Sam smirked, hoping to be vindicated by finding the red, spray painted symbol of his vision somewhere on the corrugated metal.  Dean grinned, patted Sam’s shoulder as Benny moved up to Sam’s opposite side. His gaze quickly latched onto the container and he nodded, impressed and grateful all in the same breath.  Since the nocturnal sounds had returned the Winchesters deemed it safe to talk, though they kept their tones low just in case.

 

“Benny, you stand by the doors and keep an eye out while Sammy and I do a perimeter sweep.”  Tasks assigned, the three moved cautiously in the direction of the container.

 

The doors were secure with a chain and two large padlocks; one was weathered and the other brand new. The chain was new as well, and Benny turned his back to the doors as Sam and Dean flanked the container.  Sam checked behind him before turning to look at the side of the container, red spray paint looking orange-green in the flashlight beam.  The symbol; it was the damned symbol just as he had envisioned it.  Sam didn’t realize he had been staring at the evidence that long, but was surprised when Dean came around the opposite end of the trailer and motioned to his little brother to take the sights of his weapon off of him.  Sam placed a palm against the cold, damp metal of the shipping container and Dean brought his flashlight beam up the side of it to rest upon the symbol. The brother’s eyes met in silent communication seconds before they walked around the opposite end of the container where Benny was waiting for them.

 

“Anything?” inquired Dean.

 

Benny shook his head.

 

Sam reached down and tested the rusted padlock.  “Holding solid. Do we shoot it off or do you have crowbar under your jacket somewhere?”

 

Dean rolled his eyes and pointed his gun in an angle at the locks.  “Ready?” he asked both men; when they both replied in the affirmative Dean pulled the trigger twice.  The first shot broke the rusted lock but the second shot missed the newer one.  Dean didn’t even hesitate before depressing the trigger a final time and lowered his firing arm as Sam moved quickly to loosen the chain from the door handles.  Dean walked back a few steps and Benny moved forward once Sam heaved on the latch to open the containers doors wide.

 

The smell made Benny wince, but he quickly composed himself, feeling a little bit better when he noticed that Sam had briefly covered his nose and mouth.  Dean’s left hand fluttered in a swiping motion before his face in feeble hopes of dissipating the scent.  Sam shinned his flashlight into the interior of the trailer and Benny’s joined his own.  There was furniture in the container; a bed, small tea table and matching chairs, a dresser, a full length mirror, a comfortable chair and bedside table.  And in one corner of the trailer, furthest away from the three men was a small figure huddled in the corner. The fragile looking form had burrowed between the juncture of the container walls and the dresser.  Sam holstered his gun and reached for the machete at his side.  Without an ounce of trepidation, Sam moved into the trailer, confident that both Benny and Dean had his back.  Benny followed behind, Dean standing at the mouth of the trailer feeling his heart beat thrumming inside of his chest.  The seconds it took Sam and Benny to reach the center of the compartment, Dean realized that he was monumentally screwed.  The silence was deafening and a flash of movement upon the top of the container caught Dean’s full attention. Vampire; second set of teeth fully distended, mouth agape, eyes nearly shinning in the darkness, completely focused upon Dean as it screamed.  Dean barely heard his name as the Vampire leapt from atop the container and struck hard enough against Dean’s chest to knock all oxygen out of his lungs. He felt himself flying backwards through the air, a furious Vampire scrabbling and fighting against him, hell bent upon ripping out his throat if his teeth could only make contact. It was strong; and when Dean hit the cold earth it was all he could do to keep his arms locked to prevent the creature from dropping forward to open his vulnerable throat.

 

“Dean!” Sam’s voice boomed inside of the trailer and he began moving past Benny before he even glanced back at him in apology.

 

“Go!” Was all Benny said before watching Sam sprint off into the night, machete at the ready and flashlight swinging with the pumping of his arms.  The Winchesters were trained to kill Vampires; Benny would handle the little girl; see if she was still alive or cover her with a blanket from the bed if she wasn’t.

 

Shalia twitched a little, a soft sob escaping her at the sound of Benny’s approaching footsteps.  “Mister Man, I want to go home! **_Please_**?”

 

Benny holstered his gun and dropped to kneel behind her.  “It’s alright ma petite chérie. My name is Benny; a lot of people have been looking for you. Your Mama is worried sick.”  Benny touched her back and Shalia cried out, flinching a little.  She was cold and Benny took off his jacket and wrapped it around her tiny shoulders.  “There, that’s better. Can you let me have a look at you?”

 

Shalia curled up into a tighter ball, her face hidden from Benny’s sight. “You said you wanted to go home darlin’? My friends and I are here to do just that.”  Shalia’s tension eased a little as Benny placed his hands upon her shoulders.  “Are you hurt little one? Can I see?” He gently petted her hair and Shalia rose up slowly to stand, and started crying harder. Benny soothed her gently and turned her slowly around. Her dress was torn, and there was blood on the hem and on her lace socks.  It angered him to think about just where that blood had originated from and how it had dripped down the insides of her legs.  The Vampire was a monster indeed.

 

Shalia breathed out a sob and threw her arms around Benny’s neck and he pulled her tightly against him, making certain the coat was secure over her frail, little body.  “Come on ma petite chérie.” Benny rose to stand. “Let’s get you home to your Mama.” Shalia hugged him tighter.  Benny had carried her nearly to the mouth of the container before she raised her head off of his shoulder, eyes wide, a second set of teeth jagged and far too many in her gaping mouth.

 

Dean couldn’t reach his machete without exposing his throat completely, but he could bend his leg far enough to wrap it around the Vampire’s shoulders and reach the silver knife he kept inside his right boot.  Knife in hand, Dean’s leg dropped down and he aimed the blade at the jugular, however the Vampire blocked the strike and all Dean managed was to hit the breastplate. Blood flowed over his hand, coating the knife but it did nothing to slow the Vampire down.  Dean continued frantically stabbing even though the monster was getting lower and lower towards his neck. Dean realized he was losing.  Focusing all his effort into his last few strikes he ceased thinking about anything but getting through the next few seconds alive.  Dean would never know if he had shouted or it was Sam, but the next thing he realized was that the Vampire’s severed head had dropped to his right side; blood showered down upon him and Dean raised his palms to deflect the spray away from him. He was moderately successful, though his hands were coated red. At the very least he could breathe again, and was a little dizzy with it; or was that because Sam had yanked him off the ground into a sitting position and was hugging him and searching for injuries at the same time?

 

“Dean! Are you hurt? Did it bite you?”

 

“No!” Dean cleared his throat and tried to speak again in a lower, more masculine register. “No, none of the blood is mine.” He had his cheeks abruptly cradled in Sam’s giant, warm, palms. “I’m okay.”

 

“I thought it- “ Sam faltered and shook his head. “Doesn’t matter.” He patted Dean down a little more before helping his brother to his feet, and picking up his weapon.  “Benny’s with Shalia.”  The Winchester brothers trotted quickly back to the shipping container clearing, greeted by the sight of the open doors but no immediate sign of Dean’s friend.

 

“Benny!” Dean moved towards the trailer, only to be knocked a few steps back by a little girl in a blood soaked, white, party dress. She hissed at him and then Sam, before sprinting off into the reeds.

 

Dean barely met Sam’s gaze before his brother was in quick pursuit of the child vampire, bloodied machete tightly gripped within his hand. Sick to his stomach, Dean took a step into the shipping container, pausing to pick up his previously discarded flashlight. He could smell the distinct scent of fresh copper upon moving a few steps forward. The container still reeked, however Dean recognized the smell of newly shed blood when confronted with it. He knew it wasn’t the blood he was covered in that rose the bile in his mouth.

 

“ _Benny_?” Dean hoped the summons sounded more confident than he felt. His knees were liquefying, his stomach churning, and he had broken out into a cold sweat.  Prayer was to be his next resort when he heard a shift of someone upon the floor of the container. Instantly Dean’s flashlight jerked to the left and there, seated on the floor against the container wall, legs stretched out before him, both hands at his throat attempting to staunch the flow of blood running between and over his fingers was Benny.

 

Dean exhaled something in the way of refusal to believe, before he raced to Benny’s side and pressed his own hands over Benny’s. The flashlight was dropped once more, forgotten upon Benny’s lap. “It’s okay, brother. I’m here. Just-“ Dean felt Benny’s hands slip out from underneath his own, the once unrivaled strength gone from them.  Frightened and sorrow filled eyes held his own.  They looked nearly black in the darkness, the usually piercing blue dulled and slowly fading.

 

“No!” Dean insisted angrily. “Listen to me, you’re gonna be okay. Sam and I have seen worse. _Saved_ people from worse. Just hold on, okay?” Dean clutched Benny’s throat with one hand and shrugged out of one side of his jacket and over shirt, and then the other; making certain a palm was pressed against Benny’s throat at all times. He picked up his over shirt and pressed it hard against the torn flesh, wrapping it as tightly as possible around his best friend’s throat. “Come on, Benny. Don’t do this to me.”  Dean applied pressure, his eyes locked upon Benny’s.

 

Sam visually was locked on to Shalia’s trajectory. The new born vampire was fast, but not faster than Sam’s long legs at a full sprint.  His singular focus was to overtake her, and once he did, she turned and leapt up at him. In one fluid motion Sam pushed her backward from his chest region with one hand and sliced with his machete, the blade catching her in the throat, her head flying off even before her body began its downward dissent.  Sam stopped mind step and rested his hands upon his knees, knuckles white on the hand holding the blade, his gaze prickling with tears as he gazed at the separated body and head.  She was so young; so innocent and now she was dead. He wished that the Vampire had killed her instead of condemned her to a short life of insatiable hunger and fear.  His vision had proved useless after all; it hadn’t saved Shalia Voisin. In fact, none of his visions had ever saved anyone due to the fact that he couldn’t get to the people in jeopardy fast enough.  Their very existence was a curse, not a gift and Sam wished he could expunge it from his mind.

 

Sam sheathed his machete and moved to pick up Shalia’s head first, and then her body.  He couldn’t just leave her here; her mother would want to be able to bury her daughter and he couldn’t blame her. It was better to remember Shalia for the little girl she was before the Vampire kidnapped her and brought her to this tragic end. Sam headed quickly back in the direction of the trailer and Dean.


	3. CHAPTER 3: Departures and Arrivals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean's trying to cope with Benny's death, but it's not going well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally this was going to be three chapters but I need a forth to finish it out. For those that followed this story from the original postings I know I have been very long in posting updates. I'm have an #AKF time in my life at the moment and healing the best I can at the speed I can. I am now able to write so I have. Thank you for reading and for sticking with me.

The sun was rising by the time Dean left the shipping container. The coroner had released the bodies for transport from the crime scene to the morgue.  Dean felt numb; wrung out, and oddly cognizant of every lie he told to the police detectives and his FBI superiors.  He knew Sam had been waiting for him at the Impala away from the scrutiny of the investigation.  Together they had carried the vampire’s body to the boat, sending Sam ahead with the corpse to burn and the boat to return to Remy-Ju.  The old man was sad to hear of Benny’s passing, but helped Sam lug the corpse to the fire pit near his house and waited silently with him while the body burned to ashes.  Sam looked wrecked but was confident that Remy-Ju would hold the secret for now that Benny had been killed by the dead man in the flames; a man that attacked Benny after having knocked Dean unconscious. The little girl Shalia had long been dead.  There would be a man hunt, but it would turn up no sign of the assailant and Shalia and Benny’s killer would be forever unknown.

 

Sam was seated upon the Impala’s trunk watching the sun rise higher in the orange, pink, and yellow sky when Dean exited the tall grass.  It was going to be a clear day; beautiful.  Sam’s lips up turned just a little at the corners and he removed his hands from his front jacket pockets when Dean was just a few meters away, and slid from the trunk to stand.  Dean said nothing, just continued trudging forward until he reached the trunk, pushed himself between Sam’s parted legs and yanked him into a crushing embrace.  Sam’s hands were warm upon his back, before raising one to cradle the back of his older brother’s head.  Dean’s eyes slammed closed and he rested his chin upon Sam’s shoulder for a few seconds, before pivoting his head to burrow his face into the side of Sam’s elegantly, long neck.

 

“I’m sorry, Dean. I know he’s the only real friend you’ve ever had that wasn’t me. You loved him very much.”

 

Dean constructed his embrace near to the point that neither of them could speak.  “He saved me, so I could be with you.”

 

Sam’s eyes closed, briefly staving off the shedding of tears. He pressed a hand to the back of Dean’s head and rubbed his back with the other, beneath the cloth of Dean’s jacket.

 

“I know, Baby. I know.”

 

And just what _could_ Sam say? Nothing would alter Dean’s anguish at losing his friend and professional partner. However, Dean’s wasn’t the only heart that was broken; Sam had grown to care about Benny too, and had been in the middle of developing his own friendship with the man independent of Dean’s.  He also had to deal with the crushing disappointment of not being able to rescue Shalia Voisin with use of his visions. Cases that involved children had always taken priority for the Winchester clan, and when a child was buried instead of being saved, they turned the guilt upon themselves.  Recognizing that nothing he could say would lessen Dean’s pain, Sam just continued to hold his brother in silence.

 

The ride back to their house was just as glum, emotions hanging heavily in the car between them. Dean reached out and touched Sam’s leg at the half way point of the journey, and Sam twined his fingers with Dean’s and held tight. They needed one another to get through the pain and come out the other side. At least they had one another, even if they were shaking with the knowledge that they were directly responsible for Benny’s death. Yes, Benny had chosen to accompany them, but he was not a hunter; hadn’t been adequately trained; and was their responsibility. They had both failed; failed Benny and little Shalia, and would shoulder the emotional scars of those failures for the rest of their lives.

 

They stripped off their coats and clothes in the bedroom, leaving all of it; including their boots; in a pile on the floor. Neither one had the energy or drive to put the clothes in the hamper and their boots in the closet. On automatic pilot, they entered the steaming shower and washed one another mechanically, cataloging scrapes and bruises along the way. Sam didn’t care that his hair was still nearly dripping when he slid between the sheets and spooned up against Dean’s back and pulled him close.  Dean would cry eventually, but not now; maybe not ever in front of Sam but he was broken over their loss.  Sam reached up and stroked Dean’s short, wet, hair with one hand and twined his opposite hand in Dean’s, mid chest.

 

The sun shinned brightly through the window, across the floor and almost reached the bed.  They had neglected to pull the curtains closed before leaving hours prior.  Sam had been right; it was one hell of a beautiful day.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A steady, monotone hum filled his ears. Unrelenting as the burning thirst that consumed him. He couldn’t swallow, couldn’t moisten his mouth even a fractional amount. The hunger; wait, it wasn’t merely thirst that plagued him; but a new manifestation of thirst _and_ hunger; both so fused that he could no longer distinguish one from the other. Drink; he needed to drink or he would go insane. He could feel every cell of his body screaming for sustenance; pleading with him to obey and drink.  He felt like he was dying, and the fucking, incessant droning wouldn’t stop!

 

Benny moved his hands and abruptly felt a slick plastic. He pushed and prodded testing the confines of the cocoon like sheathe with his limbs until he gaged the dimensions in full. His limbs were heavy, sluggish and it hurt to move. Every muscle screaming in retaliation against his will, but the hunger; the thirst; catapulted him forward regardless of how much he wanted to lie still. And the ceaseless hum was quickly replacing his thirst as being the most pressing obstacle. Benny realized there was a zipper in the top of the plastic running all the way down the length of the cocoon. Grabbing a fist full of plastic on either side of the zipper, Benny yanked once; hard; and the cocoon burst open, metal teeth separating with a thundering noise that caused Benny to immediately press his hands to his ears. Mere seconds later Benny the sound ceased reverberating, and he sat up to survey his surroundings more accurately. The sight that greeted him was unexpected to say the least.

 

The cocoon was a black body bag; he was seated upon a metal table with wheels; and there seemed to be a green light everywhere he looked in the room. Upon further notice he realized pitch darkness hovered at his peripheral if he moved his eyes too quickly. The room he was in was small; more like a glorified walk in closet with the exception that it was cold inside; and metal. Along three of the walls there were metal racks positioned with other occupied body bags upon them. His gurney was pushed up against one of the walls, and there were three, no five other wheeled gurneys around him as well. The morgue; sweet, southern belles, he was in the city morgue.  The incessant humming surrounding him must be the motor turning to keep the temperature at a brisk 4 °C (39 °F). Under normal circumstances, Benny would have questioned his presence in the walk-in freezer in this county building, yet his immense thirst took precedent over that concern for now.  Benny struggled to untangle himself from the body bag and swung his legs over the side of the gurney to stand. His legs were a little weak, but he quickly steadied himself, clutching a shelf with one hand and pressing the other to his temple. So, fucking, **_famished_**!

 

Benny lurched forward more than walked over to the freezer door and pounded it a couple of times with a fist. His eyes squinted shut in agony as the reverberation of the impact tore through is flayed nerves like wildfire. He needed to drink; he needed to get out of the cold, and he needed his overstimulated senses to go off line long enough for him to think.  When the knocking yielded no results, Benny continued to pound on the door, this time adding his voice to the mix.  He called out, throat raw but voice steading quickly after a few words.  The humming of the freezer was lessening in volume and Benny leaned his weight against the door.

 

“Hello? Someone out there? Open the door please! Hello?”

 

The night morgue attendant loved his job. His main duties were to place the cadaver’s belongings in evidence bags, take photos, nail, genital and mouth scrapings, and wash the bodies to prepare them for autopsy.  The city had been busy per his boss and there were a few names on the list he had to get through before the morning crew came on shift in a few hours. Checking the clip board one more time, he pulled the I-pod earbuds out of his ears and pushed them and the tether wires into his scrub chest pocket.  He was about to unlatch the freezer door, when a loud bang sounded from inside. It was then that he realized there were a few other bowed portions on the door that were not present when he came to work that evening. Divots? From what? How…? The hair stood up on the back of his neck as he abruptly heard a voice behind the door call out.

 

How in the hell did someone get locked in freezer two? Was this some sort of prank from the security staff? He realized he shouldn’t have shorted one of them on the molly buy the week prior. The guy said he would make him pay, so this had to be a sick prank. God, what kind of fortitude did this guy must have too lock himself; or someone else; in the freezer to scare someone dishonest? Talk about major issues. The morgue attendant tentatively reached for the handle and threw the lock latches open.  The door barely opened with a hiss from the seals, as the overhead lights flickered to life inside the refrigerator.  The last thing the man saw was a maw of teeth and beefy arms flying at him so quickly only his subconscious registered them.

 

The only blood the corner would find in the attendant’s body later are small droplets that sprayed out upon the man’s scrubs when his throat was pierced.  Famished, Benny drained him until he began to choke with the effort and yielded no results. He dropped the body at his feet, eyes squinting as the bright, florescent lights that momentarily blinded him. It had been dimmer in the freezer; and Benny did not realize that he had night vision in pitch black unlike his human counterparts.  It took him a minute to adjust to the brightness, yet once his pupils compensated he stepped over the morgue attendant and exited the room. He could hear so many sounds, each one instantly dissected and catalogued.  He honed in on a single heartbeat and when the security guard rounded the corner Benny charged him just as he had the morgue attendant. Again, not a drop of blood was left behind.  He felt his skin buzzing with electric pulses, he felt far calmer but he wasn’t entirely satiated. He stepped around the second body he dropped, and headed toward the exit doors.  He took the route that would empty him out into the alley and leaned his back against the cool brick of the building for a moment. He caught his breath and adjusted to the new ambient sounds and darkness around him.  Two people were dead, yet the only thought that thundered through him was the need for more; more, more blood; more and more.

 

The Winchester’s, they were the vampire experts and there was only one choice for Benny now. He must force himself to contain his murderous rampage and get to Dean’s house as quickly as possible. He would not stop drinking blood; sacrificing innocents until he was dead.  How many more bodies would he have to drain to feel even remotely in control? The thirst drove him, the over stimulated senses of his body firing all at once; he was compelled to respond to his new nature. A slave to his body he couldn’t allow himself to continue. It wasn’t the man he was; and he wasn’t about to leave a wake of suffering families behind him just to survive. Benny pushed away from the wall and strode determinedly out of the alleyway and towards the sidewalk. He needed a car to get back to Bayou Cane.  He couldn’t be trusted on public transportation and a cab seemed no better answer lest the driver’s blood tempt him. He realized that he needed to call Dean and Sam to pick him up but- Benny halted in his stride, doubling over in anguish as his stomach turned over upon itself. Everything hurt, his muscles were screaming, his mind roaring for nourishment.  More; he needed _more_.

 

The midsized Audi turned the corner and slowly crept up the street towards the morgue where Benny was hunched over standing upon the sidewalk.  Inside of it a nicely dressed couple were having a mild disagreement. It was their third date and so far, the only hitch in their courtship was Arron’s uncertainty of the location of the restaurant he had the GPS in his phone honed in on.

 

“I’m telling you Luanne, the red triangle is _clearly_ indicating a left turn.”

 

Luanne sighed delicately and shook her head. “Well, I don’t see the valet parking sign, or the restaurant here, do you?” Before her date could answer Luanne sighted Benny. “Arron, look at that man. Does he look right to you? Should we call 911 you think?”

 

Arron frowned. “He’s just standing there. Why don’t I pull up and ask him for directions since this GPS app is such garbage?”

 

The Audi stopped and Benny straightened his five-foot-ten-inch frame. He could hear two heartbeats and his mouth was watering in desperation. The passenger window lowered and a sing song voice inquired after his health, Benny barely managed not to rip the back-passenger door off the hinges as climbed into the car with the stunned couple. His right hand closed around Luanne’s neck, crushing it before she or Arron could even gasp.

 

“Now’d you be so kind as to drive towards the highway, why your lady friend and I exchange pleasantries?”

 

Arron swallowed seeing the unnatural glow of Benny’s blue eyes. He felt his bowels loosen and instinctively obeyed the new vampire’s commands. By the time, Arron took the freeway exit for Bayou Cane, Luanne had been pulled into the back seat and was completely drained of blood. Once the car stopped a few houses down from Dean and Sam’s, Arron met her fate, and Benny placed both bodies in the trunk of the car. For the first time that night, Benny felt the baying of his thirst silenced and quenched.

 

Dean had shut off his phone and put it in the lock box with his service weapon.  He knew he had multitudes of weapons at his disposal, yet they were designated hunting paraphernalia and had no attachment to his professional life as an FBI agent.  Benny was gone. How was he supposed to function at the agency with a new partner? One that would never understand him, nor be the friend and brother to him that Benny had? How was he supposed to show his face at the parish church and comfort everyone else when he was the one that was responsible for Benny’s death? Benny trusted him and Dean had let him down; brought him into the world of darkness that only ended in his bloody, anguished death. Dean could never fill Benny’s role of town protector, leader, humanitarian and historical archiver. Dean just wasn’t made of that type of fortitude.  Benny was genuine; the best that the male species had to offer; and Dean Winchester could never be _that_ man.

 

The bourbon warmed his throat as he swallowed a sip out of the tumbler. It was Benny’s favorite, A.H. Hirsch Reserve.  Dean didn’t know much about good whiskey until he had lived with Benny and been introduced too, and educated about the finer alcohols. A.H. Hirsch was aged sixteen-years and cost about three grand a bottle, a fact Dean had been _politely_ informed when he drank a full bottle one night and offered to replace it later the next morning. Benny had never pushed to collect on that debt, and a birthday later Dean finally made good on his responsibility.  Tonight, he was not going to drink the bottle, just three fingers full, because Sam was hovering nervously around him, seeking someway to comfort his older sibling.  In the past when Dean spiraled emotionally he used alcohol and sex to numb the pain, only now he was finished with heavy drinking and he had a willing partner in Sam. Sam never said no, was always ready to initiate sexual advances and Dean was quite content with their love life.  Tonight, however he was morose and would seek comfort not escape, and Sam was ready to cuddle Dean close when he indicated he was in need. Dean didn’t wish to be touched while he drank and contemplated so Sam hovered and worried.

 

Two days. It had been two days since Benny had died and Dean didn’t know what he was going to do. Sam had insisted that he didn’t have to make any life altering decisions until he had grieved a little but Dean knew this life was over. No more FBI, no more Bayou Cane, no more best friend; the moment the little girl had attacked Benny, Dean accepted there was only one answer for him now: being a Hunter. That’s all he ever was and would ever be, no matter how much he and Sam wished to be otherwise. Sam had gone to college but Hunting called him back; Dean had built a complete new life; with a legitimate vocation, no less; and now that had all tumbled down around his feet and been set aflame. The ashes tasted bitter and he knew that he would have to say the words out loud to Sam, see the pain in his little brother’s eyes, but also the acceptance and understanding. The Winchesters were never meant to be anything except warriors who battled the inhuman creatures that stalked the earth.

 

At first the ringing of the doorbell ceased to register within Dean’s mind, it wasn’t until Sam strode towards the front door that Dean reacted. He rose from the couch and called sharply to his brother and Sam froze in place and looked at Dean. Sam noted the almost imperceptible shake of his sibling’s head and nodded just as minutely. He waited for Dean to overtake him and stride to the door, his hand reaching out behind him to be filled with the butt of Sam’s hastily drawn Taurus.  Dean clicked the safety off and looked through the peep hole. His breath drew up fast, his heart skipping a beat in utter shock.

 

“Benny?”

 

Sam’s eyes widened instantly as his mind began spinning as to how Benny had become a vampire, and why it had taken him over twenty-four-hours to transition into his new state of being.  There could be no other reason for a dead man to be standing upon their porch in the middle of the night, after having his throat torn open as it had been. Dean reached for the door knob and Sam went to the entry way closet to grab two machetes out of the weapons duffle bag.  When he stood, he realized what must have caused Benny to shift; Dean’s hands had been covered in the sire vampire’s blood. It hadn’t dried, much of it still dripping by the time they had discovered Benny in the shipping container. In his zeal to save his friends life, Dean’s contaminated hands had mingled Benny’s blood with that of the vampire’s. It only took a little blood to change a human, but why it had taken so long for Benny to resurrect needed further thought.  Dean opened the door, the lightweight screen the only thing separating him from his undead friend.

 

“Hey Chief.” Benny drawled gently, hands slightly raised, palms facing outward.  “I’m sorry brother, but I need y’all do what it is you do when things like me come knockin’.”

 

Dean swallowed and lowered the Taurus to his side, slipping the safety back into place.  He pushed on the screen door and held it open for Benny to enter the house, knowing Sam had heard every word and would be armed by now.  Once Benny stepped into the entry way, Dean allowed the screen door to slam closed and he shut the front door and secured the dead bolts. He noticed that both machetes Sam had in either hand was pointed at the floor. He holstered the Taurus in the back of his belt and reached out to Sam for one of the weapons. Benny stood facing the brothers, his hands still held in supplication and every movement he made was televised and slow.

 

“You sure you wanna soil the foyer like this? Maybe the basement be more suitable for what we’re about to get up too.”

 

“No one is killing anyone.” Sam’s head snapped to the left to look at Dean’s profile. “ _Yet_.” There was a hard edge to Dean’s tone that punched through the pain white washed in determination and hope. Dean’s gaze slid to the right and Sam recognized the silent question of aid from Sam’s archival mind.

 

Benny chuckled self-deprecatingly, the sound more of a rumbling growl than it would have been seventy-two-hours earlier.  “I’m not a man, any longer Dean; but dangerous. And you told me there is only one solution for monsters such as I.”

 

“Actually,” Sam interjected watching Benny’s gaze shift from Dean to settle upon him. “There’s a few things we can try. Limited, I grant you; but you’re not exactly condemned.” Sam felt the atmosphere relax around him and knew that Dean was immensely relieved.

 

Benny smirked and looked down at the floor, and shook his head slightly. “I don’t know about that, Sam.” He lifted his head and looked from the eldest Winchester to the youngest. “I’ve killed four people. Two in the morgue and two on the ride over here. Even if you can reverse what’s happened to me, even if it’s to a small degree; it won’t take back what I’ve done now, will it? I- “

 

“Did what you had to.” Dean silenced sharply before managing to soften his tone. “Look, I get it, okay Benny? It’s not ideal; but you weren’t you when you did it.”

 

“Doesn’t excuse it, Chief.” Benny’s smile was sorrowful. “Let’s say, Sam reverses this? I’m still who I am, and I am no murderer. I took four people’s lives to save my own skin and now I live with that. It’s only been a short while now and I must say, the good Lord has not made me strong enough to bare this. I’m a monster and y’all kill monsters. So, forgive my forwardness but let’s halt all the wailing and moanin’ and do the right thing.”

 

Dean felt like his chest were about to collapse in upon itself, his eyes burning with unshed tears.

 

“Benny, we are **_not_** -”

 

“It’s all right, Dean. I’m asking for you to do what’s right, and I know damn well you’re going to do it.” Benny forced himself to look away from Dean’s agonized features to Sam’s. “Sam here is gonna make certain of it.”

 

Sam swallowed.  Of course; he knew what Benny was asking Sam to lop off is head if Dean were unable. Sam granted the vampire a single nod and Benny took a step backward. Sam cleared his throat, “Uh, I think the first thing we should do is secure Benny in the basement. Just temporarily while I look up a couple of avenues for a cure, and then we can see where we stand after.” He looked from Dean to Benny. “That sound alright to everyone?”

 

Dean grunted once and Benny leaned his head in the direction of the kitchen where the door to the basement awaited him. Sam held out a hand in a sweeping gesture and the trio began to move slowly towards the kitchen. Benny kept his hands raised and visible, and Dean brought up the rear frowning and clenching his jaw.  In less than 10 minutes Benny was seated in a sturdy dining room chair chains wrapped around his torso and lower legs. His arms were pinned behind him and he sat placid and silent as the Winchester brothers ascended the stairs.  Dean placed his machete and the Taurus on the kitchen island and Sam rested his weapon there as well. They barely made it to the living room when Dean rounded upon his younger sibling.

 

“Don’t you dare tell me you got nothin’ in that big ol’brain of yours!” Dean pointed an accusing finger at Sam’s forehead.  “Research? There’s no _cure_ is there? There’s nothing we can do except chop off his head and burn- “Dean faltered as emotion caught in his voice, a sob nearly escaping him. He closed his eyes and opened his motioning hand, pushing the palm down in the air in a weak attempt to stop the moment.

 

“Dean,” Sam uttered gently. “I wasn’t lying when I said I knew of something that might help. I just need to look up a couple of details before I promise to try anything.” He placed his hands upon Dean’s shoulders. “Benny’s here now. He came to us; he didn’t head off on his own. That’s a _good_ thing. We have him safe. And if the worst comes then- ** _I’ll_** do what needs to be done.”

 

“No.” Dean ground out tone deeply etched with pain. “He’s my- it’s my responsibility. I got him into this mess and, I need to be the one that…” The sentence trailed off into silence and Sam cradled one of Dean’s cheeks in his palm. He smiled lovingly and pressed his forehead against his brother’s; their eyes closing at the gesture.

 

“We got this.” Sam placed a kiss upon the center of Dean’s forehead before withdrawing. “Do you want to sit with him downstairs? Or- “

 

“Na,” Dean swallowed and hooked a thumb back over his shoulder in indication. “You do your thing and I’ll, keep him company. Get me when you have something decisive.”

 

“Sure thing, Baby.”

 

Sam watched him walk away, hearing his footsteps pause and the scrape of the machete across the granite top of the kitchen island. A few seconds later the basement door opened then closed, Dean’s heavy footfalls trudging down the stairs. Sam wiped his face with his hands and turned in the direction of small office library. He was determined to come up with something useful, even if he feared the worse. Were they just prolonging the inevitable? Or was there actually something that could be done to save their friend?

 

Benny looked up at the sound of Dean’s footfalls upon the wooden stair case. While he hadn’t missed much of the conversation between the Winchester’s, there was no reason to advertise that the exchange hadn’t been as private as intended. He waited silently thankful that the thirst was momentarily under his control. He still ached like he had been dragged behind a semi-truck over three states, and his elevated sense perception was something that would take much more adapting too. As if sensing his discomfort Dean turned on the florescent lights over his work bench and turned off the main light in the roof of the room.

 

“Thank you, Brother.”

 

Dean nodded and pulled the stool out from beneath his work station to sit down. “It’s my fault.” He admitted softly.  “The blood on my hands from that son of a bitch vampire. It got in the wound when I was trying to save you. It doesn’t take much and, fuck Benny. I am. So. Sorry.”  Apologizing would never erase the creature he had condemned Benny to become.

 

“Now don’t go sayin’ that.” Benny calmly disagreed. “I didn’t come here to place blame. I know just as well as you do that this is my time to go, so I’m going. We all end up the same way, Dean. Just get there whistlin’ a different tune.”

 

“Your song ain’t over Benny.” Dean insisted. “I know you miss June and the girls, but dying doesn’t automatically mean that you’ll be joining them. I’ve learned enough about heaven and hell to know that they aren’t what we thought they were- “

 

“Dean.” Benny gently interrupted. “I know you’re tryin’ to give me hope, but Chief; fact is where or when I go doesn’t matter. I’m a killer now and that’s fact. Let me die the shadow of the man I was, then live as the monster I’ve become. Whad’da’ya say Brother? Last requests must mean something between us.”

 

Dean got up off the metal stool he was seated upon and threw it towards the stairs. It clanged to the concrete floor and had Sam calling down from the door way in seconds.

 

“S’fine Sammy!” Dean waited a minute or so resting his hands upon his hips and staring at his friend. “Son of a bitch Benny, I let this happen. If I had never- “

 

“Water under the bridge, Dean. I’m not the one in this room who’s placing blame. And I don’t want you to keep that up once I’m gone.”

 

“Stop saying that!” Dean snapped coiling his hands into fists with nothing or no one to punch.  “Sammy’s going to find a cure; if not, he’ll have something we can work around. Just stop acting like you have a death sentence; don’t you give up on me yet. Okay?”

 

Benny nodded once indicating that he would comply, even though his expression made it clear that Dean was the only one of them holding out any hope.

 

Frantic, Sam searched through the data base he had erected and pulled worn tombs off the shelves in the home office. He could not fail Dean; if there was one time to pull a miracle out of his ass it was now. The more time that ticked by in his scanning the more tears pricked in his gaze. Benny had said he fed, so that narrowed their options significantly.

 

“Damn it.” Sam took a deep breath. He needed more time; a wider array of information to comb through; but would Benny allow it? Sam bit his bottom lip and wiped the tears from his eyes. He huffed once sharply then closed his eyes in attempts to bring his breathing under control. He needed to steady his heart rate because Benny’s senses were heightened and he would smell and hear the lie before Sam even opened his mouth to speak. He could do this. Dean was waiting. Nodding once with confidence he forced himself to feel Sam went to the basement stairs and joined his brother and friend. The hope in Dean’s eyes crushed Sam and nearly spiked his heartbeat.

 

“On the surface? I have a couple of more options to research, but I don’t have the books I need. I’m pretty certain Bobby does.”

 

Dean’s brow furrowed. “That something he can get you over the phone or do you need hands on?”

 

Sam crossed his arms across his chest. “Being there would be nice. He has other resources outside of what’s on his shelves, and to be honest guys, he’s not in my head. It would be worth the trip.”

 

Dean nodded and clenched his fists at his sides. “Road trip then.” He looked at Benny. “How are you on- “

 

“Dean.” Sam summoned sharply. “We can’t take him along. I’m the one who’s going, not you and certainly not Benny.”

 

Benny looked down at the floor for a beat, his lips pulling into a thin smirk of acceptance. “This chair is mighty comfortable.” He looked at Sam. “But if you can’t-”

 

“I know.” Sam interrupted gently. “I’ll book the return flight- “

 

“Wait,” interjected Dean motioning to Benny then Sam. “Flight? You’re gonna fly?”

 

“Yes, Dean. He’s going to need to feed and we haven’t got any bl- “

 

“I’ll handle it.” Dean snapped. “I’ll hit a blood bank, a hospital- “

 

“And risk getting arrested with a starving vampire in our basement? You can’t do that Dean.” Helplessly Dean stared at his little brother. “Start with the butcher shops or, uh, as much as it pains me to suggest this, you might even have to go to the pound- “

 

“Oh jesus, Sammy.” Dean shook off his momentary disgust eyes sliding to Benny’s gaze. “Benny- “

 

“Farm animal or pet, if it keeps me from killing anyone else, it’s fine by me Dean.”

 

Dean nodded and placed a hand upon Benny’s shoulder to demonstrate his trust along with offering comfort and solidarity. Dean slowly withdrew his touch and addressed Sam once more. “You want to pack while I check flights?” Sam nodded and was reluctant to climb the stairs behind Dean. Dean stopped half way up and canted his head in direction. Sam held up a finger in indication and Dean continued walking.

 

Once alone Sam looked at Benny, but the older male spoke first. “We’re doing this song and dance for Dean, I know. But when the time comes- “

 

“Benny, I wasn’t lying when said there might be a way to help you that doesn’t involve decapitation. Please, just give me forty-eight hours at the longest seventy-two.  If I come home empty handed, then yes; I promise you; I won’t let Dean be the one to kill you.”

 

Benny exhaled even though there was no more air in his lungs. Obviously relieved by Sam’s vow he said, “Thank you, Brother.”

 

Sam tenderly smiled in response before turning to join Dean upstairs.


End file.
